A Very Chelsie Christmas
by Hogwarts Duo
Summary: It's the most wonderful time of year, even at Downton Abbey. Join me as we peek into the lives of Charles Carson, Elsie Hughes Carson, & Sybbie Branson as we explore the ABC's of Christmas. Written for the Cheerful Chelsie Christmas prompt on Tumblr. CarsonxHughes pairing
1. A is for Angel

**A – is for Angel**

Elsie stood at the front door of the cottage and waited on her husband to join her. She dreaded walking out into the darkness, the cold winter wind ready to nip at her nose and cheeks, so she waited until the last possible minute to open the door. Their walk to work would be chilly, and they would each need to step carefully since pathways could be somewhat treacherous on colder, wetter mornings. Glistening and shimmering dewdrops frozen to tree branches, leaves, grass, puddles … everything had the potential to be dangerous yet incredibly beautiful. Even the torch that her husband used to light their path seemed to enhance the scenery while adding a sense of security to each step they took. Then again, she always felt secure when her Charlie was near.

"Sorry, love. I think I have everything now," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek as he secured his hat on top of his head.

She shook her head and sighed sweetly. "You men think you're all invincible. Scarf and gloves, please, Mr. Carson, or you'll catch a cold for Christmas!" She handed him both garments and watched as he swiftly obeyed her wishes. "I promised to love you in sickness and in health, but you're much more fun when you're healthy and strong."

His eyebrows wiggled and one corner of his lips curled in to a smirk. "Are you saying I'm a bad patient, Mrs. Carson, or are you trying to compliment me on my vitality and vigor? I think, to quote a Scottish lass of my acquaintance … we should be clear about what we're discussing."

"Ach! You're incorrigible. We need to get to work and flannelling on in our entryway is getting us nowhere." She looped her arm through his and leaned in to his side before standing on her tiptoes to give him a swift kiss to the cheek. "And for the record, Charlie, I think, after last night, you should know in which direction my thoughts were heading."

Fortunately for Charles, it was almost too hard to tell if his cheeks were reddened by the sudden blush as he remembered the previous evening or if they were simply being assaulted by the biting air as he opened the door. Almost …

Their walks to the great house were often filled with conversations about what needed doing that particular day, who was visiting, dinners to be organized, paperwork to be completed … routine household and staffing matters. Other days, their banter was more personal, more intimate: socks to be darned, wine Charles wanted to purchase, a summer trip to Brighton, finances, and even more private talks about health, satisfaction, and happiness. And then there were mornings which were completely unpredictable, mornings such as this one.

"We really should sit down and decide on our tree decorations since you wanted to get that sorted on our day off on Friday."

"I thought it was sorted," she replied, giving him a confused look out of the corner of her eye. "We're having Andy and Albert bring over the tree on Thursday so it will have time to settle. I'm pulling the boxes from the attic tomorrow so the ornaments will be ready. You had that lovely tree skirt sewn for us, so we don't need a new one. I think that covers everything."

Charles huffed and a puff of warm air clouded his face as it collided with the coldness of the morning. "You're simply avoiding the conversation because you don't wish to discuss it. But, sooner or later, we're going to need to reach a decision, and something tells me that you've already made up your mind on the matter."

"I just don't understand why you're making such a fuss about it. At the end of the day, it's our tree, and we can do anything we'd like with it. If we wanted to hang your handkerchiefs and socks on it as decorations, it would be no one's business but our own." She caught his shocked expression and gave his arm a squeeze. "Oh, don't look so horrified. I'd never do that and you know it good and well." She reached over with her free hand and patted his cheek and bumped her hip against his. "We both know I'm more apt to use my knickers and stockings to properly toss our house into a Christmas scandal."

"That's not funny, Elsie May! It's important to me, and I don't understand why it's such a sticking point for you."

As they neared the servant's door, Elsie walked in front of her husband, causing him to bump in to her and catching her upper arms to keep her from toppling backwards. "Because, sometimes Charlie, I want things done in my own way. Is that so outlandish? Posh people don't always get it right!" And, with that firm declaration, she entered the house and her sitting room, not sparing him a second more to continue the discussion.

By the time the servants breakfast was ready, Elsie had managed to regain her composure and push the conversation from her mind, though not entirely. It still lingered, resurfacing at random moments, though it no longer dominated her thoughts. With her focus fully on the day ahead, she joined her husband and the others for toast, porridge, tea, and coffee. However, as soon as she sat down, she could tell that Charles was still brooding. With a soft smile cast in his direction, she prepared his tea and toast in the hopes of smoothing over some of his hurt feelings and offering a truce until they could revisit the topic later.

On his morning rounds, Charles stopped by the nursery to let Nanny know that the footmen would be bringing up the children's Christmas tree and ornaments after lunch. "Better to be prepared for their enthusiasm," he announced with a small smile. "They're at the age where everything is magical and filled with wonder. That's the way all Christmases should be."

"Just because we grow up doesn't mean we have to grow older, Mr. Carson. I dare say there's still a bit of the small child left in most of us if we look hard enough."

"You sound like you've been talking to Mrs. Hughes." He tugged on the bottom of his waistcoat and arched a single eyebrow. "I should continue with my rounds. I only stopped in to give you the information about the delivery." As he left the nursery, his shoulders slumped a little as the Nanny's words replayed in his mind about growing up and older and the abrupt way Elsie had spoken to him settled deep in his heart. He was almost to the top of the landing when he heard the sweet voice of Sybbie calling out to him from the nursery door.

"May I come and see you later, Mr. Carson? Please? We could eat some biscuits with Mrs. Hughes."

He walked back to where she was standing then knelt down in front of her. "You'll need to check with Nanny first. We wouldn't want to get in to trouble for disappearing, now would we?" he asked, tapping the end of her nose and causing her to giggle.

"Don't worry, I won't disappear, silly. I can't do magic tricks." And then a thought occurred to her and she whispered rather loudly. "Can _you_ do magic tricks?"

He gave a hearty chuckle and waggled his eyebrows at her. "Perhaps," he said before reaching behind her ear and producing a sixpence to her sheer delight. The last thing he heard before descending the staircase was Sybbie's animated voice excitedly explaining how she came to be in possession of the coin.

To be honest, Charles Carson did not expect to see Miss Sybbie at all for the remainder of the day. He assumed, incorrectly, that once the tree was delivered, she and the other children would be decorating it and enjoying the treats Mrs. Patmore and Daisy had been baking earlier. He was completely surprised when a timid knock broke through the silence of his pantry, rousing him from his thoughts of home and decorating the tree with Elsie.

"Yes, come in."

"Mr. Carson, is now a good time to visit?" Sybbie looked decidedly unhappy and her eyes bore little red rims which gave testament to tears shed sometime recently.

Capping his pen and closing his ledger, Charles stood up from his desk and reached out his hand to the little girl. "Goodness, I didn't expect to see you this afternoon. I thought you'd be upstairs with the others decorating that pretty tree I saw them bringing in earlier."

Without asking, she climbed in to his lap and settled comfortably against his broad chest. Her voice was low but her words were clear. "I don't want to decorate the tree. It's a silly little tree, anyway. I thought you and Mrs. Hughes might let me help you decorate the tree down here or maybe at your cottage."

Perplexed, Charles wondered if he should send the unhappy child to his wife for answers but, at the last minute, he decided he might try his hand at cheering the little girl. "Surely, the tree isn't a silly one. I'm relatively certain we ordered serious ones for the house, though your tree may have just been a little nervous and trying to make you all laugh."

His joke coaxed a snicker from Sybbie, and she shook her head at his teasing. "Mr. Carson, you're the silly one today. Trees can't be silly, but I guess I did say that, didn't I?"

"You did, so would you like to try again to explain what happened? I would happily go with you to the nursery to help sort out this "silly tree" of yours."

"It's not the tree, really. It's George. We were going through the decorations in the boxes, and I found a really pretty angel that I wanted to put on the top of the tree. He argued with me that all trees have stars on the top, and I told him that I didn't think that was right because we've seen angels on the trees in the village. Some of them had angels and some had other things. He wouldn't even listen to me, and when I was trying to talk to Nanny, he put his star on the top so I couldn't put the angel there. She didn't make him take it down or even listen so I refused to help."

Charles listened carefully, and he could completely relate to the child and her predicament regarding the tree topper. Elsie had wanted a star while he had preferred an angel topper. That had been the crux of their disagreement this morning. "May I ask why you were so determined to have an angel on the top of the tree instead of the star? I'm sure both would have been very pretty, and, just perhaps, you could have talked Nanny in to changing them every few days so you both got your wish." The reality of what he'd just suggested to the child in his lap hit him like a ton of bricks. Briefly, he wondered if Elsie might be willing to compromise in such a fashion with their own tree.

Sybbie sniffed a little and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, hoping he hadn't noticed her tears. "Promise me you won't laugh?" He kissed the top of her head and whispered his oath. "She reminded me of Mrs. Hughes. She has pretty, dark hair and, her cheeks were a little pink like Mrs. Hughes. She has blue eyes just like Mrs. Hughes and when I think of angels, I always think of her, and Mama because she's a real angel now."

"What a lovely thing to say, Miss Sybbie. Your mother was a very sweet and angelic person, and she, no doubt, watches over you. Now, what makes you think of Mrs. Hughes as an angel, if you don't mind me asking a personal question? You don't have to tell me if you don't want."

"She's kind and funny, pretty and warm, gives the best hugs, and reads to me. If I need help, she's always in her office, and she listens. We have tea parties, sometimes, and if I'm upset, she will cuddle me until I am happy again. Mr. Carson, she loves me, and I love her. I think she's my guardian angel, so I wanted to put the angel on the top of the tree because it reminds me of her."

He gave the little girl a fierce hug, though gently enough not to startle or hurt her. "You know something, we have a lot in common. You see, just this morning, I had a similar conversation with someone I love more than anything about this very topic. But, I didn't get a chance to explain my side of things to her, just like you didn't have a chance to explain anything to Master George or Nanny. I'm sure, though, that I can speak to her on your behalf and arrange for the topper to be replaced on a regular schedule so you both get a turn. Would that be fair, do you think?"

She nodded her head and kissed his cheek. "I would love that so much. Would you really do that for me?" He nodded and pressed a light kiss to the back of the little girl's hand. "Will you tell me why you wanted an angel on the top of the tree instead of a star?"

He thought for a moment, contemplating whether or not to be candid or simply gloss over the true reasons. Since she had opened her heart to him, he felt it only fair that he returned the favor, though perhaps not sharing all that was in his heart. He leaned back a little in his chair and waited until she was settled before he answered.

"It wasn't that long ago that Mrs. Hughes and I were married. But, she's always been my best friend, and I've always been able to trust her with my secrets, just like you. Twice, when I was very sick, she took care of me, making sure I rested and ate properly, took care of my duties or saw to it that others did. She cared for me in ways that no one else could have and all out of a loving heart. And, over time, we realized that we love each other enough to marry," he said, as if that explained it all to the little girl.

"So, you want an angel because … Mrs. Hughes is your guardian angel, too?" A bright smile broke across her face and her eyes started to regain some of their earlier happiness and enthusiasm.

"Yes, in so many ways, Miss Sybbie, she is. I had hoped to surprise her with an angel for the top of our tree that I'd purchased and had shipped from London, but now it looks like that's not the case. That's to remain our little secret so no spilling the beans to your favorite housekeeper," he said with a wink. "I might be able to return the angel and get Mrs. Hughes the star for the top of our tree. I'll have to make a phone call this afternoon, if I want it here in time for decorating."

"You know, Mr. Carson, you might want to talk to Mrs. Hughes. If you tell her what you told me, she might let you put the angel on the tree or maybe use the star some days and your angel on others. It's only fair, and she's always saying we should be kind and share, especially toys and biscuits."

"Speaking of biscuits … should we go see if Mrs. Patmore has any left from her baking? I think we've earned a little treat, and maybe your angel might like a gingerbread man with her tea. She might even give you a bit, if you ask sweetly."

"Good idea. Let's go," she said, hopping down from his lap. Before he could stand, though, she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a hug. "Thank you for helping me, Mr. Carson. I hope you get your angel on your tree."

"You're most welcome, and even if I end up with a star on the top of my tree, I promise to tell Mrs. Hughes about the angel. It is a really pretty one that I think she'll love."

Unbeknownst to the two occupants in Charles's pantry, Mrs. Hughes had heard everything. She'd gone to Charles's office to try to make amends for her abrupt behavior earlier in the day when she'd heard Sybbie's voice and Charles trying to soothe her. As she listened closely, silent tears fell down her cheeks as her husband and the little girl who occupied a large portion of her heart each called her their special angel. She couldn't remember a time when she'd been so moved.

She hurried back to her office before they caught her lingering in the hallway. She would, most certainly, be giving Miss Sybbie a large piece of her gingerbread man, and later, she would make everything up to her beloved husband. She would be open and honest with him about her preference for a star … because it reminded her of strength and warmth, brightness and stability, happiness and a bright future … all the things she associated with him … her shining star.

As she softly closed the door to her sitting room, she decided that as soon as Miss Sybbie returned to the nursery, she would speak to Charles about the star and angel tree toppers. After all, no one said they couldn't reach a compromise like he'd suggested for the children. If she talked sweetly enough, he might even agree to two trees in their modest cottage … each with its' own special angel and star.

**A/N:** Thanks so much for reading this chapter. I hope to update daily until the alphabet challenge is completed. All of my chapters will feature Charles Carson, Elsie Hughes, and Sybbie Branson with appearances from a few others in the household or village. None of the chapters are connected to one another so this is just a bit of holiday fun, and I hope you'll join me on the journey through a Chelsie Christmas.


	2. B is for Bell

**B - is for Bell**

"Carson, I have a favor to ask of you. I know it won't be something you'll necessarily enjoy, but I would very much appreciate it if you'd give the matter some consideration before you say no."

"All you need do is ask, my lady, and I'll happily help in whatever way I can. Surely, you know that by now."

Lady Mary Talbot smiled at her beloved champion, a smile that certainly reached her eyes in an impish way. "You may feel differently when you hear what I'm about to ask. It's not within your normal duties but I'm sure you'd be perfect for the task."

He stood a little taller at her praise then quirked an eyebrow. "Why don't you tell me what it is? I can't give you an answer before I know the question," he said with a fatherly smile.

"Very well. Mr. Branson and I have been talking about opening the house to the public as we did once before, but this time, we'd like it to be a sort of Christmas themed event. Nothing is more beautiful than Downton Abbey during the holiday season, and it would be something that no other house has even contemplated doing before. We would be the first, and it would also give us a chance to greet more of the people in the village."

It was clear from the look on his face that Carson wasn't completely on board with the idea, but he would never be able to refuse Lady Mary anything … well, almost anything. After all, he'd drawn the line at moving to Haxby, though he'd had personal reason for that decision, and it had worked out well in the end.

"I see, and where do I fit in to these plans that you and Mr. Branson have devised, and does His Lordship know about it all?"

"He does know, though he doesn't know what I'm about to ask you. That's something I am asking as a personal favor, but it would coincide with the opening of the house. You see, Carson, when I was a little girl, Christmas was always a magical time, and you always seemed to make it even more special. The stories you would tell me, and even Sybil and Edith, made Father Christmas seem so real, so alive. I was hoping that you'd play a part in that for the rest of the village … give them a sense of enchantment and wonder as only you can."

"I am flattered, my lady, that you remember your childhood and my contributions so fondly, but I still don't see how this fits in to the plans for having the house open to the public. I'm certain most of the villagers would not be interested in hearing me recite _A Visit from St. Nicholas_."

She smiled and gave him a quick wink. "But the children certainly would, especially if you were dressed as Father Christmas, and you know for certain that Sybbie, George, and Marigold would love it. Miss Sybbie loves you as much as she does her Papa and her Donk, and we've all heard of the wonderful Mrs. Hughes who resides downstairs and who spoils her with treats and cuddles. Oh, please, Carson, say you'll do it. If not for me, then for Sybbie, and all the other children you'd be seeing that day."

He took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Might I have the rest of the day to think it over and to discuss it with Mrs. Hughes? I will give you my answer this evening."

"Wonderful, Carson! We are planning to open the house to the public in two weeks, for one day only, as before. That should give us plenty of time to decorate the house and grounds appropriately and plenty of time to spread the word through the village." She reached out and took his hand in hers, a sure sign of changing times, and gave his hand a squeeze. "I'll await your answer, and thank you." Without another word, she left the library and a stunned Carson in her wake.

In a dazed state of mind, he made his way beyond the green baize door and down the staircase which led him in to more familiar territory and the comfort of his wife's sitting room. He opened her door without so much as a single knock which startled her from the abrupt entry.

"Heavens! Are you trying to give me a fright, Mr. Carson?" One look at his expression caused her to put down her pen and turn to fully face him. One quick glance at him from head to toe put her mind at ease that at least it wasn't anything terribly serious, though something has certainly rattled his nerves. "Sit down and take a minute. I'll see if Mrs. Patmore will make us a pot of tea. You look like you could use it."

He took her hand in his and shook his head. "I don't need tea, just a moment to gather my thoughts. Lady Mary has asked something of me, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. I told her I needed to talk to you about it before giving her an answer."

"My goodness, I can't imagine what's so important that you'd need my opinion before giving Lady Mary an answer. I assumed you'd do anything she asked of you … regardless of what I may think on the subject."

"Please, don't be that way. I'm serious. I wanted to hear what my wife had to say on the matter, and I did tell her as much. Surely, that means something to you since you've told me in the past that I sometimes put her wishes above anyone else's. I trust you to give me an honest assessment, and you'd not be blinded by the affection that I feel for her."

"Well, you've got me there, Charlie. So, tell me … what is it that she wants from you now?"

Charles took both of her hands in his and tugged her a little closer until she was standing between his legs, cradling his head to her stomach. Somehow, it was easier to tell her this without seeing the expressions ghost across her face. It was nothing terrible, but he felt more comfortable explaining the situation wrapped up in her loving embrace. Once he was finished, he felt her give his shoulders a squeeze and her lips press a kiss to the top of his head.

"I think it's a lovely idea, love, and you'll make a wonderful Father Christmas. I'm sure Miss Baxter would help make any alterations to the suit that's up in the attic, and we can put a little flour on your eyebrows to make them less your own and more like Saint Nicholas." She took his face in her hands and forced him to look up in to her face. "What had you so worried that you felt you needed to seek me out for my opinion, though? I don't understand."

He shrugged. "It's one thing to read to the children here in this house. We see them regularly, at least Miss Sybbie, and ladies Mary, Edith, and Sybil grew up before my very eyes. But the village children … I don't know them, do I? What if they're scared or recognize me and make me out to be a fool in front of everyone else? It's a little unsettling."

"Oh, Charlie, you are a wonderful man, and I love you so much. You're going to be a wonderful Father Christmas for everyone. Now, you go and tell your Lady Mary that you'll be honored to play your part in all of this. I'll speak to Miss Baxter about the suit and beard so we'll have plenty of time to transform you in to the most handsome Saint Nick that has ever been." She lowered her lips to his and kissed him sweetly and swiftly on the lips. "And for what it's worth, I believe in you, and can't wait to sit on your lap and tell you exactly what I want for Christmas." With a kiss to his forehead, she sent him on his way back upstairs to share the happy news with Lady Mary.

Over the next few days, Miss Baxter worked tirelessly in her down time to make slight alterations and enhancements to the red suit found in the attic. Elsie had taken the task of finding a white beard, one that she felt would hide most of Mr. Carson's face so that he wouldn't be easily recognized by the children, either in the house or from the village, and the upstairs family had done their part in organizing and promoting the grand event. From what she'd heard from the others in the household, it was all the talk of the village and was going to be a grand affair. Even Mrs. Patmore had volunteered herself and Daisy to bake biscuits and sweets for the children to enjoy during their brief visit to the house.

It was late in the afternoon, and Elsie had just put away the soft, white beard she'd been working on for Charles when her sitting room door flew open and a little girl with brown curly hair ran in to her office.

"Mrs. Hughes! You'll never guess what I just heard! You won't believe it, even if I tell you. It's the best thing ever, and I can't believe it's going to happen. I don't think I was supposed to hear it, but they were talking, and I know I'm not supposed to interrupt so I was waiting my turn and that's when I heard it. You'll never guess," Sybbie Branson said, practically bouncing up and down on her tiptoes and her eyes flashing with excitement.

"Goodness, me! You'd better tell me before you burst into a million little piece, and I have to put you back together like a puzzle … or worse … Humpty Dumpty," the housekeeper teased with more than a little laughter laced through her voice. "This sounds like something spectacular that I should hear." She gathered the little girl in her arms and drew her on to her lap.

"He's coming to the house … he's really coming! I'll actually get to meet him and talk to him. Can you believe it? And I think the other children will be able to talk to him, too, even the ones from the village that we only see on Sundays. I don't know how they got him to visit but I think it was a letter that Mr. Carson wrote to him. It had to be. Aunt Mary said something about Carson, and he's the only Carson I know."

"You know me, don't you? I'm now a Carson." She tickled the little girl until she was squirming in her lap.

"Mrs. Hughes, you are a Carson but you'll always be my Mrs. Hughes." She threw her arms around the housekeeper's neck and gave a squeeze, as tight at her little arms could manage. She pulled back and her eyes were wide with enthusiasm. "I'm going to meet Father Christmas! He's coming to Downton. Will you help me think of something nice to give him while he's here? He brings us things every year, and all we give him are biscuits and milk."

The heart of the child was so generous and loving, it took no coaxing at all for Mrs. Hughes to agree to the little girl's wishes. "I'll see what I can do, though I'm sure he doesn't expect anything. Besides, he might not be able to take things back with him to the North Pole. I'm sure he'd be just as happy with a heartfelt thank you and a hug. Or, if you truly must give him something, you might draw him one of your pretty pictures. That's something he could slip into his pocket."

"You have the best ideas. Thank you. Maybe I can come back and work on my picture in here with you. I don't want George and Marigold to see what I'm doing. I want it to be a surprise, and I know you won't tell on me."

She brushed the hair back from Sybbie's face and kissed her forehead. "Let's go see about some milk, and you can start working on what you might like to draw. Always good to have an idea of what you want before starting, I always think."

"You're so smart. I'm glad I came to you." She took the housekeeper's hand and pulled her up so they could go to the kitchen. "Do you think Mr. Carson will let you talk to Father Christmas and tell him what's on your list? I bet he will. I bet they're the best of friends, and you'll get to see him before the rest of us."

She laughed and guided the little girl into the kitchen. "If I'm lucky, Miss Sybbie … if I'm a lucky lass like you."

The day of the open house arrived, and the house was buzzing with excitement. Mr. Carson hadn't slept a wink the night before, tossing and turning until his wife demanded they get up and have a large nightcap in the hopes of being lulled into some semblance of sleep. The children were more rambunctious than usual in the nursery, having heard of the special visitor. The household staff were busier than usual, making sure everything was tidy and properly cleaned, tending to last minute details that often get overlooked. Even the members of the family were looking forward to a grand event at the house. But, all throughout the house, everyone was looking forward to the arrival of Father Christmas.

As expected, everyone in the village and surrounding farms decided to take the Crawley family up on their invitation to visit the house. The large Christmas tree in the grand hall seemed to be the most spectacular they'd ever had, and it sparkled with that special brand of Christmas magic that only fairy lights and glittery ornaments can bring. Garland was woven around the banisters with large velvet bows at the top and bottom of the staircases. Fresh wreaths were even placed around small chimera statues just outside the doorway, and the smell of evergreens, cinnamon, and cloves wrapped the house in warmth and merriment.

For a while, Carson stood faithfully at the front door, welcoming guests and answering any questions they may have about the house, its' inhabitants, and the festivities of the day. Despite the bundle of nerves in the pit of his stomach, though, he was quite calm and the very essence of tradition and propriety that such a great house as Downton Abbey required in their faithful butler. It wasn't until he spotted his wife waiting in the shadow of the baize door that he felt his hand begin to tremble with nerves. It was nearly time for him to make a discreet exit, only to reappear as the man of the hour … the one and only Father Christmas.

He'd carefully made a study of the little children entering the house, trying desperately to remember names and faces of the children he knew, or the parents with which he was more familiar. He was doing this for his wife and Lady Mary, but he was putting his best efforts into putting the smiles on the faces of each little person who had walked through the impressive wooden front doors.

As Elsie helped him slip on the red coat and adjust the black belt, she smoothed her hands down the velvet covered chest. "You make a very impressive Father Christmas, Charlie. The children are going to fall in love with you instantly. Now, you must be prepared for the odd question from the children. You know how Miss Sybbie loves to ask questions of us, so best keep your wits about you."

"That's part of what has me so worried. I don't want to lie to the children if they ask me specific questions. I'm just not sure I can think as quickly on my feet as you do sometimes with the children. You're much better at this."

"Ah, but they're not here to see Mrs. St. Nick, love. They want you … or, you as Father Christmas. Either way, just go upstairs and be your charming, loving, and endearing self. They'll love you almost as much as I do when this day is all over." She kissed him sweetly on the lips then helped him secure his beard before accompanying him through the back door and to the front of the house as planned.

He entered the main hallway with an impressive, "HO, HO, HO," which greatly amused his wife and Lady Mary while surprising most of the adults and all of the children visiting. Soon, he was surrounded by a small mob of little boys and girls each more delightful than the next, and thankfully remembering their manners about not pushing and taking turns.

"I hope you've all been good this year," he said in his deep voice while trying to make it a little different to keep the illusion alive for Sybbie, George, and Marigold. "I've been watching, and I'm most impressed by what I've seen. So, well done, children. Well done, indeed." He made his way gently through the gathering of children to a large chair that had been brought in from the small library for his use. "Now, I know we're all excited, and you'll each get a turn, so let's form a queue and you can come up and see me, if you wish."

He was astonished by how the children organized themselves into a single file line and silence overtook the hallway as everyone watched with sheer fascination. Everyone seemed to be in awe of the impressive Father Christmas and his authoritative yet warming demeanor. And, one by one, the children took turns climbing into his lap and sharing with him their deepest desires for Christmas treats and presents.

The Crawley children were among the last to take a turn sitting on his knee, and it was Miss Sybbie who rounded out the afternoon by being the last child. By the time she slipped into his lap, Charles was feeling more confident and settled in the role, quite sure that he could disguise himself enough so as not to spoil the fun for her.

"Ah, you're Sybbie Branson, aren't you?" he said, quietly. "I'd know you anywhere." She gasped a little and nodded her head.

"What else do you know about me?" She was very curious, and had so many questions to ask.

"I know you adore sweets, peppermint sticks especially. You are polite and courteous. You share biscuits and treats with your cousins. Oh, and yes, you enjoy riding your bicycle on sunny days. Did I miss anything?"

Her mouth was opened in amazement at all the things he knew about her. Therefore, she reasoned, that he must truly be Father Christmas and that Mr. Carson must have written a very good letter to convince his friend to visit their house. "Do you know Mr. Carson? He's our butler here, and he's very kind to me. Sometimes, we sneak treats together, and he lets me have tea parties with Mrs. Hughes in her sitting room."

"Does he now? That's very nice of him. I'm sure he enjoys doing those things for you and for Mrs. Hughes."

"He loves her. Did you know that they were married? I'm glad that they have each other, and that they spend time with me, too. They're my favorite people, aside from Papa, of course. He's my absolute favorite."

"Your father has raised a very intelligent and giving little girl, and I'm sure he's so very proud of you." He tweaked her nose and tapped it with his index finger. "So, tell me, Miss Sybbie, what would you like me to bring you for Christmas this year? Is there anything in particular that you want … a new doll or tea set, perhaps?"

She shook her head and gave him a wide grin. She motioned for him to bend a little lower so she could whisper something in his ear. As soon as she sat back, Charles had to fight the urge to wipe a stray tear from his eye and his heart began to beat a little faster in his chest.

"Are you sure that's what you'd like? I'm not sure that's within my power to fulfill. Most people ask me for things they'd like me to bring them."

"Oh, I'm sure, though … if you'd like to bring me something, I suppose I would like a jingle bell from your sleigh, but only if you have an extra one. I wouldn't want you to go to any trouble. Just, if you could see about the first thing I asked you about and maybe the bell that would be wonderful." She gave him a hug and hopped down from his lap. "I almost forgot to give you this," she said, handing him a little bit of paper. "Mrs. Hughes helped me, though I did most of it. She helped with some of the spelling. It's a drawing for your desk back at the North Pole. It's so you won't forget us and the day you spent here." She looked around the room and spotted Mrs. Hughes in the corner, watching her carefully and with a smile on her face. "That's Mrs. Hughes over there," she said, pointing to the housekeeper. She's the one I mentioned to you, just in case you don't recognize her. I don't see Mr. Carson around, but you know what he looks like since he's your good friend."

"Yes, I do believe I know him quite well, and the housekeeper, too. And, I'll see what I can do about granting your request, though I can make no promises. I'm sure you understand."

"I do and thank you for trying. I hope you have a good trip back to the North Pole, and you get lots of good biscuits on Christmas Eve. I'll be sure to leave an extra one for you with a peppermint stick and some carrots for your reindeer." And with a happy heart, the child skipped away from Father Christmas and towards her favorite person … Mrs. Hughes.

Hours later, as Charles and Elsie were settling down in their own bed for a good night's sleep, Charles wrapped his arms around Elsie and hugged her close. "Did Sybbie tell you about her conversation with Father Christmas this afternoon?"

"No, she didn't. Well, not entirely. She said she asked for something specific but didn't want to tell me what it was, and that she asked for something almost impossible to get for herself unless you were the real St. Nick. I meant to ask you about that and to remind you to tell Mr. Branson in case he wants to purchase it for her as a surprise."

"Well, that's the thing. I'd like it if we could see about making that little wish come true for her, especially after her first request was so selfless and caring that it brought a tear to my eye."

"Goodness," she said, resting her chin on his chest and staring into his eyes in the darkness of their bedroom. "What could she have possible requested that would inspire such a response from you? I hope it didn't have anything to do with Lady Sybil?"

He shook his head and leaned forward to kiss the tip of her nose. "No, it was about her favorite person … one Mrs. Hughes, who was standing nearby and watching us both with fascination written all over her face. When I asked her what she wanted, she said she only wanted you to get what you most wanted for Christmas and that you and Mr. Carson would be very happy. When I questioned her further, she kept saying she wanted you to get what you most desired, and then, if it wasn't too much trouble, she'd like a bell from my … well, his sleigh."

"Ahh! That explains the conversation I had with her. She said she asked for something almost impossible unless you were the real Father Christmas. I couldn't imagine what that might be but now it all makes sense. She told you, and no one else, so if it happened, you must have been the real thing."

"Exactly, which is why I want to see if we can find a little bell, maybe spruce it up a bit with some ribbon? I could polish it and make it really sparkle for her? What do you think?"

She stretched up and kissed him soundly on the lips, leaving him with no doubts about how much she loved him and his idea. "We could go in to Thirsk on Friday and see what we can find. They're more likely to have something that will be suitable than in the village here. And, too, if she's been in the shops here, she might recognize something, and that's the last thing we'd need."

"Right! It's settled then." He gave Elsie's bottom a little pat and winked. "I believe you mentioned earlier something about sitting on my lap and telling me what you wanted from Father Christmas. I'm afraid he's already left for the day, but I'd be more than happy to listen to your … desires."

"Hmm, well, I did hear it on good authority that you're really good friends with the man at the North Pole, but, like our darling Sybbie, I'm not sure he can grant me what I most desire. I think that undertaking lies solely with my charming husband."

"Mmm, then by all means, Elsie May, do share? I'd love the chance to give you exactly what you want for Christmas." And for the rest of the night, softly spoken words of love and desire were shared between husband and wife, vows renewed, promises made, and each one drifting off to a satisfied and peaceful sleep.

On Christmas morning, Sybbie Branson woke to find her stocking filled with all sorts of treats and small toys. But, there were two small wrapped parcels on her bedside table along with a note.

_Because you have a loving heart … this is for you_

_Love,_

_Father Christmas_

_P.S. Tell my friends, Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes hello._

She sprang from the bed and stopped to quickly pull on her dressing gown and slippers before taking her packages and running downstairs to the servant's quarters. It was still early enough that most of the family were still in bed and things were more relaxed downstairs so it wasn't hard to find Mr. Carson in his pantry.

"Mr. Carson! He came. Your friend brought me these," she shouted, startling him with her enthusiasm so early in the morning.

"My goodness! What are you doing up and about so early? Does Nanny know you're here?"

"What's all the ruckus," Mrs. Hughes asked from the doorway, a bright smile on her face. "Happy Christmas, Miss Sybbie. Did you get a lovely surprise this morning?"

"I think I did," she squealed. "I haven't opened it yet, but he left me this note. He said to tell you both hello, by the way." She handed Elsie the note that Mr. Carson had penned the night before, right before they'd slipped the presents on to her bedside table. "Let's open them. Please!"

Both adults took a seat in front of the excited child and watched her with great anticipation, but nothing could have prepared them for the sheer enthusiasm and boundless energy that filled the room when she laid eyes on the special gift. Inside the first box was a beautiful silver bell with a pretty red bow tied around the top. It seemed to catch the light from every angle and cast a magical atmosphere all around the room. The wonder in the young girl's eyes more than made up for the day spent in Thirsk agonizing over which bell to purchase and the hours Charles had spent polishing it with his own hands.

"I can't believe it. He actually gave me one of his silver bells! I'll love it forever, and keep it by my bed all year around."

"It truly is a wonderful gift. I wonder what else he left you, love?" Elsie tapped the top of the other box, which was much smaller and wrapped in pretty blue paper with a silver bow.

"I think you should open it," Mr. Carson encouraged. "It might be something even more special than your reindeer bell."

As she peeled away the paper and carefully opened the box, her eyes danced with delight. Inside the smaller box was a pretty necklace, one designed for the neck of a small child. The chain was silver, but not too dainty, and it was clear that it was not designed for a titled lass but more for someone of more modest means. However, the little girl standing in front of them didn't care or even notice. Her eyes were fixed on the trinket dangling from the necklace … a little bell shaped charm.

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever owned," she whispered softly as she gently removed the necklace from the box and inspected it. "I'll wear it always." She handed the delicate piece to Mr. Carson and smiled. "Would you help me put it on, Mr. Carson? I want to wear it today."

"Gladly, my lady," he said softly, his voice cracking ever so slightly with emotion. Only his wife was witness to the tear he wiped from his eyes as he affixed the necklace to the neck of the little girl who has stolen their hearts.

"It looks beautiful on you, Miss Sybbie. I'd say you're a very lucky little girl to have received not one but two special gifts this morning. Was that what you wanted for Christmas?"

She thought for a moment before answering. "I asked for him to give you what you wanted for Christmas this year, and if he had time, he could bring me a bell, if it wasn't too much trouble. So, does this mean that you also got what you wanted most?"

She missed the wink that Mrs. Hughes gave Mr. Carson and the blush that crept up his neck and infused his cheeks in a warm glow. "That I did, my girl. He made sure that I was very happy with what I received. In fact, I plan on expressing my gratitude later."

"Ohhh, that's a good idea. Would you help me write him a thank you letter to send with yours? I wouldn't want him to think I didn't appreciate the gifts?"

Elsie took Sybbie's hand and nodded her head. "We can work on that tomorrow, if you'd like. Right now, though, I think we need to get you a cup of milk and then I'll walk you back upstairs to the nursery. It wouldn't do for you to be missing when the others wake."

"Just one more minute, Mrs. Hughes." She turned her attention to Mr. Carson and kissed his cheek sweetly. "I think you're wonderful, and I hope you get everything you want for Christmas today."

He touched his cheek where the little girl had planted a kiss. "I just did, Miss Sybbie. Seeing you this happy and sharing a bit of your morning has been the best start to my day. Now, off you go, and I'll see you a later."

For the next few weeks, Miss Sybbie found ways to bring up the special silver bell in conversations with everyone in the household and she refused to take off the necklace. No doubts, this would be the one childhood Christmas she would remember for the rest of her days.

**A/N:** Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews and for following the prompt series. Hope you've enjoyed my take on "Bell" and will come back tomorrow to see what I have planned for "Candle." Massive hugs and Christmas cheer to all!


	3. C is for Candle

**C - is for Candle**

Sybbie Branson had been warned by her father and her nanny that she was not to go downstairs and disturb Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes. "They are finalizing plans for the dinner party that is to be held here this evening so they need time to attend to any last minute details. We mustn't keep them from their duties, and we certainly don't want them to get in to any trouble because certain tasks aren't completed."

To her little ears, the arguments that her Papa and nanny were making sounded logical but surely, she wouldn't be in their way. The butler and the housekeeper had always made time for her when she visited, and she was positive that today would be no different. They might even enjoy a little break for a biscuit, though she wouldn't ask for a tea party today. That sounded like a little too much even to her own ears.

She waited for the opportune moment to slip, unnoticed, from the nursery and down the familiar hallways and staircases until she reached the servant's hall. There was a lot more activity, more bustling about, and Mrs. Patmore was very shouty about some wellington thing Sybbie could only assume had something to do with boots that she wore on rainy days. She giggled to herself as she wondered why her friend who made delicious biscuits would be so upset over a pair of shoes. Someone may have taken or borrowed her favorite pair without asking, like George and Marigold sometimes did with her toys. She nodded her head in resignation. Yes, that had to be it. She wanted to get shouty, too, sometimes when that happened.

Deciding that it was best to avoid the loud noises in the kitchen, Sybbie chose to visit Mr. Carson's pantry first. Surely, Mrs. Patmore wouldn't bother Mr. Carson, and he always had a peppermint stick in his desk drawer for her. He might like a chance to sit down and tell her a story while they nibbled on one of the little treats. It couldn't hurt to ask.

She knocked on his door but there was no reply, so she knocked again … a little harder. After all, if everyone was busy, maybe he just didn't hear her over the rest of the noise. When no reply came after the second knock, she eased open the door slowly and peeked her head inside. He wasn't there. She was just about to close the door and visit Mrs. Hughes when she heard her Papa speaking to one of the maids.

"Have you seen my daughter, Sybbie, down here? She's slipped away from the nursery, and this is usually where we find her."

Quickly, Sybbie stepped in to Mr. Carson's pantry and closed the door behind her before she could be seen. Backing away from the door, she bumped into a box on the edge of his desk, sending it toppling to the floor with a loud bang causing her to jump. With her heart pounding in her chest, both at the thought of getting caught by her Papa and the box on the floor, Sybbie hid under Mr. Carson's desk and waited.

It wasn't long before she heard Mrs. Hughes's voice nearing the door, and she began to wonder if disobeying her father and the nanny had been such a good idea. When the door to the butler's pantry opened, she hugged her knees to her chest and held her breath.

"No, she's not in here, Mr. Branson, and I haven't seen her this morning. I'll check with Mrs. Patmore but given her current state, I doubt anyone would want to linger for long in the kitchens," she said with a bit of mirth laced through her voice. "Goodness. I wonder what this box is doing on the floor," she said as she noticed the upside down package. "Mr. Carson should learn to be more careful." Shaking it gently, she heard no sounds like broken glass, so she returned it to the corner where a space had obviously been cleared for it originally. As she closed the door behind her, Sybbie heard Mrs. Hughes telling Mr. Branson that she would bring Sybbie back to the nursery if she saw her, but reminding him that it really wasn't a bother to have her visiting downstairs. "Truly, she's no trouble at all."

"That's not the point, Mrs. Hughes. She was told not to bother you or Mr. Carson today since we have the dinner this evening. I remember what it was like when there were important guests coming and how busy you all are to make sure everything runs smoothly and splendidly."

"Well, I won't interfere with your parenting. I'll only say that neither of us mind when she visits. She is a lovely child, and she reminds us that there are more important things in life than working constantly. Sometimes, it's good to take a break and enjoy the wonders of childhood and growing up."

"Thank you for saying so. She adores the both of you." As their voices moved away from the doorway, Sybbie heard her Papa saying he'd search outside for her, just in case she'd wandered down to the bicycle shed or out on the lawn with one of her dolls.

Sybbie waited for what seemed like hours before she finally opened the door just a crack and peeked outside into the hallway. Mrs. Hughes's door was shut, and Mr. Carson seemed to be nowhere in sight, so she decided it might be best if she returned to the nursery and face her punishment.

Unfortunately, she didn't quite make it. She was almost back on the landing leading to her rooms when she was spotted by Mr. Carson.

"Hello, Miss Sybbie. What are you doing wandering around the hallways?" He bent down and gave her a warm and inviting smile, one she did not return.

"Umm, I was going back to see nanny. I'm sorry I bothered you, Mr. Carson." She started to walk past him but he reached out and took her hand in his, causing her to stop. She felt a lump rising up in her throat as she remembered her disobedience and the overturned box from his desk.

"You weren't bothering me. I believe I stopped you to speak, so perhaps I'm the one keeping you from something important. Shall I walk you back? I suppose I could see if Nanny would like a little break for a few moments."

"No, that's okay. I'll be fine. I don't want to be a distraction or a problem today. I know you have a lot of things to do, and I shouldn't keep you from them. I … I'm so very sorry, Mr. Carson. I didn't mean any harm," she said, before pulling away and running all the way back to the nursery in tears.

He stood, stunned, for a moment as he watched the child, who normally would spend hours in his office or his wife's, curled up between them as they read stories, drew pictures, and had tea parties running away from him. He waited a few moments before popping his head into the nursery. "Everything as it should be, Nanny?"

"It is now, Mr. Carson," she said, casting Sybbie a stern look which caused the little girl's lip to quiver. "We're waiting on Mr. Branson to return so he can have a word with the lass."

Carson raised an impressive eyebrow and gave a slight nod of his head. "I see," he replied, though in reality he had no idea what had been going on while he'd been inspecting various parts of the house in preparation for the evening guests. "Well, I'll leave you to it, though, should you need something before tea time, let one of the hall boys know."

Confused and puzzled, Carson returned downstairs and told his wife what had happened, hoping she might be able to shed some light on the subject. When she informed him of Sybbie's disappearance and how her father and few of the servants had been looking for her, he began to make sense of it all.

"She must have been returning to the nursery when I stopped her, though I had no way of knowing she'd been missing at all. I assumed she'd been down here to see you."

"I haven't seen her all day, which is quite surprising, really. If she leaves the nursery, our offices are usually the first places she stops. I can't imagine anywhere else in the house she'd visit unless it's the kitchen. Given the way Mrs. Patmore was carrying on this morning, though, I doubt she would step foot in there today. I don't even want to go in there, and I'm more than a match for Beryl Patmore."

He laughed softly and nodded. "Well, I'm sure we'll hear the rest of the story sooner rather than later. And if not, you can ask her about it when she visits you for some chocolate biscuits." He leaned down and gave his wife a quick peck on the cheek. "Now, I should get this box of candles upstairs so I can get the candelabras ready for the dining room table. I should have just enough to do for this evening but I'll need to get more from Bakewell's in the next day or so."

"You should really be more careful about where you place things, Mr. Carson. When I was helping Mr. Branson look for Miss Sybbie, I peeked in here and found that box on the floor, upside down. It must have fallen off of the corner of your desk."

His eyes widened and then his eyebrows formed a deep "v" as he took in the state of the box. One corner had been dented, and it looked a little worn. "That's not possible. I wouldn't perch it precariously on the corner. Someone must have been in here. Are you sure you didn't accidentally knock it off when you were looking for Miss Sybbie?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed deeply. "I can assure you, I only peeked my head inside the door. When I saw the box on the floor, I stepped in, picked it up, placed it back on the corner, and then continued on with my day. Mr. Branson was here with me. You weren't in your pantry, and I had no reason to linger in your office when I have one of my own."

"Yes, all right. I realize that. I just can't imagine why it would have fallen. I'm sorry I accused you. I'm just slightly on edge today."

She gave his upper arm a squeeze and then soothed her hand over the small of his back. "I don't know why. We've hosted house parties before, and they've all gone splendidly under your guidance. Tonight should be no different."

"But, it's the Burke's … of Burke's Peerage, Elsie! It's not every day a house such as Downton gets the opportunity to host someone as important as this to the very foundation of English society."

"Charlie, you could serve the King and Queen with little advanced notice and still pull off an impressive dinner with no problems whatsoever. Stop worrying so much. I'm sure everything will be fine, love." She stretched up and kissed him swiftly on the lips then brushed her thumb across them as just one more reminder of her love for him. "Now, get those candles upstairs and sorted so you can come back for some sandwiches and tea. I want you at your best this evening." She gave him a quick pat on the back then retreated to her office to complete the invoices for the supply order.

She had just brought the tray of sandwiches and tea into her sitting room when she heard Charles's booming voice echoing through the stairwell and corridor, and from the sound of it, he was none too pleased.

"I cannot believe it. The dinner is only hours away and now this happens," he fumed as he went into his pantry and slammed the door. "Get me Bakewell's," he practically shouted through the telephone receive to the operator.

"What in heavens name …" Elsie was cut short as someone as Bakewell's answered the call.

"Yes, this is Mr. Carson. I need one of your delivery boys to bring at least a dozen white taper candles to Downton Abbey as soon as possible. It's an emergency." There was a short pause. "What do you mean they're all out running errands? Don't you have someone else who could make a quick delivery? This is of the utmost importance!" There was another pause during which Elsie entered the room and shut the door behind her. "No, I don't suppose you would understand. I suppose I'll have to send one of the lads from here, though I really cannot spare them since there's so much to be done." He returned the earpiece to the cradle a little more forcefully than necessary then huffed like a bull in a pasture.

"Are you quite finished?" she asked, clasping her hands together in front of her and waiting for his answer.

"Not entirely, no. I went upstairs to ready the table only to find most of the candles broken. It must have happened when the box fell off the desk, though I still don't see how that happened. I tell you, Elsie, this dinner is doomed! It's all going topsy-turvy and there's nothing to be done about it."

She crossed the room and stood behind his chair, giving his shoulders a firm squeeze. "You won't be serving any of it if you don't settle down. Now, close your eyes and lean back for a moment," she said, encouraging him to rest his head against her belly while she massaged his temples tenderly. "You're going to sit in here … quietly, I might add … and I'll send Albert down to the village. By the time you've eaten your sandwich and calmed yourself, he'll be back and you can finish with the table. Then, on your behalf, I'll ask Mrs. Patmore about baking Mr. Bakewell a pie or cake or something as a way of apologizing for yelling at him this afternoon. You can deliver it to him when it's ready," she said, leaving no room for argument. "It wasn't his fault that the candles were broken and needed replacing on short notice."

A little voice sounded from the doorway. "It was my fault." Both adults looked up to see the tear-streaked face of Sybbie Branson standing in the doorway accompanied by her father. "I'm very sorry," she said as her little lip trembled. With a slight nudge, her father encouraged her to step into the butler's pantry as he waited and watched from the doorway.

Mr. Carson stood and rounded his desk, taking the seat on the opposite side and encouraging Elsie to do the same. He beckoned the child over and perched her on his lap. "What do you mean … it's your fault?"

"It's all right, love. You can tell us. What happened?"

The little girl burst into tears as she explained how the morning had gone, complete with the encounter with Mr. Carson in the corridor earlier in the day and how she'd been so upset and worried ever since then.

"Ah, lass, why would you be worried? Accidents happen all the time. Just the other day, I accidentally dropped a tea cup and had to tell Mrs. Patmore," Elsie said and watched as Sybbie's eyes grew wider.

"Did she yell at you or tell Father Christmas?"

Suddenly, it all made sense … or at least a little more than it had earlier.

"No, sweetheart. She wasn't angry at all. These things happen, just like you accidentally knocking the candles of the desk. Mr. Carson should have been more careful with them since they were so important, and you should have obeyed your Papa and nanny."

"Mr. Carson, will you … will you be telling your friend, Father Christmas that I broke your candles and almost ruined Granny and Donk's party? I didn't mean to. I was just scared of getting caught, and I tried to hide. I know I shouldn't have done that."

He kissed the top of her head and hugged her to him. He lowered his voice to a soft, warm whisper. "I don't think that will be necessary. I didn't tell him about Mrs. Hughes and the teacup so I think we can let this one slide. Don't you? Besides, I am fairly certain we've both learned a valuable lesson today, haven't we?"

She nodded and threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Mr. Carson. I promise I won't bother you or Mrs. Hughes again. It's just that … I love coming down here and spending time with you. It can be so much more fun than in the nursery."

The hearts of all three adults melted on the spot though it was Elsie who managed to find her voice first.

"And we love having you visit, don't we, Mr. Carson?" He nodded and smiled at the child. "You're not bothering us when you visit, though we do have work to do. Today, Mr. Carson and I, and even Mrs. Patmore and the rest of the staff, are preparing for some very important visitors tonight. If we don't get our work done in time, things will be quite a mess," she said as she tapped the little girl's nose. "And, we wouldn't want that."

"I am sorry about the candles, Mr. Carson, and that you have to replace them. I can ask Father Christmas for some replacements, but they won't be here until Christmas Eve, and that will be too late."

Tom Branson stepped into the pantry and knelt down in front of his daughter. "I tell you what, Sybbie. Why don't you and I run into the village and pick up the candles for Mr. Carson. You are, after all, the one that broke them when you knocked them off his desk. And maybe, while we're there, we can pick up a little sweet treat that you can share with Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes … tomorrow!"

"Would it be okay if I visited you tomorrow, if I promise not to break anything or get into any trouble? I'll even get permission from nanny before I come downstairs or wait until you come and get me."

"I think that's an excellent plan, Miss Sybbie. And," Carson said, whispering loud enough so that his wife and Tom Branson could hear, "I wouldn't worry about Father Christmas at all. I'm sure he's got much bigger things to worry about than an accident involving some candles and a little girl who only wanted a cuddle." He kissed her cheek then helped her down off his lap so she could give Mrs. Hughes as hug as well.

"Off you go, and thank you for the apology and for telling us about the candles." Mrs. Hughes winked and sent Sybbie and her Papa on their way to the village.

As the door closed behind them, Charles and Elsie each took a deep breath and sighed. "At least now we know what happened to the candles, but what are we going to do with so many broken ones? Surely, you can't use them for anything in the upstairs rooms and we've no need for them down here, either."

Charles's eyes darkened a little, and he winked at his wife. "Oh, I think they'll fit nicely in our candleholders at home. They're broken so the family won't be able to use them, and they're perfectly good so no need to toss them out."

"But, Charlie, we have electric lights in the cottage. We don't need them either."

"No one said anything about needing them, Mrs. Hughes. But, even I'm not a complete stranger to romance. A little candlelight, a bottle of wine, some soft music … sounds like a lovely night in, if you ask me."

She leaned over and kissed him soundly on the lips. "I'll look forward to sharing those candlelight evenings with you, Charlie, and remind me to get Miss Sybbie a little something extra for her stocking."

"Why on earth would you need to do that?"

"Because, even unintentionally, she tends to spread happiness and light wherever she goes."

**A/N:** Once again, you guys have warmed my heart with your reblogs, comments, and reviews. I'm so happy you're enjoying the story and the adventures of our little trio. Tomorrow, we'll explore "D is for Dancing." Hope you'll join me for that one, too!


	4. D is for Dancing

**D – is for Dancing**

Every year, the Crawley family hosted a grand ball for the servants. It was their way of showing their gratitude for all of the hard work and dedication that went into the smooth and daily running of the household. From the lowest scullery maid and hall boy to the butler and housekeeper, every member of staff was invited to attend and were treated as honored guests.

Food was brought in from the village so that the kitchen staff didn't have to prepare anything. Several crates of wine were brought in for the occasion with the help of Mr. Carson's expertise in selecting vintages and varieties. Mrs. Hughes and her maids had already done most of their work for the party as they decorated the house for the holidays, though she did try to add a few festive elements to the tables set up in the Great Hall.

The schedule for the day would always be an abbreviated one. A buffet breakfast for the family would allow the staff to get a head start on their daily chores, things that would normally have to wait until the family had been waited on and breakfast was over. Lunch was a simple affair, nothing grand or overly complicated, and the same could be said of dinner, which was typically served at an earlier hour. The Dowager Countess would arrive a little before seven, dine with the family, and then stay until she was ready to retire to her own home.

As the heads of the household, Charles and Elsie would open the ball with His Lordship and Her Ladyship by pairing off and dancing a simple waltz. Elsie had always found it a little uncomfortable to dance with His Lordship in front of the entire household, though she tried to focus on the positive side of things. It was only one dance, and then she could retire to the shadows and encourage others to have a lovely evening. She truly didn't mind watching from the wings, reveling in the laughter of others, and sharing a few quiet moments with Charles.

This year, however, was a little different. She found she was actually looking forward to opening the festivities with the first dance of the evening. Her Charlie had promised her the second dance, and all the rest afterwards should she choose to grace him with her presence on the dance floor. She remembered their little exchange earlier that morning as they were cuddled up in bed together, burrowed under the blankets, and greeting the morning together with warm kisses and soft caresses.

"_We could slip away quietly and leave them to it_," he'd suggested scandalously, knowing full well that she would never take him up on the offer.

"_Looking to fulfill one of your fantasies, then, about having the housekeeper in her room or yours, perhaps somewhere down in the servants' hall where the risk of being caught out would be titillating?"_

She'd teased him on numerous occasions about such encounters, always leaving him a little flustered and with a rosy tint to his cheeks. More than a few times, they had engaged in frank discussions about fantasies and things they might like to try … a rather progressive adventure for her Charlie, but he was learning more about being a husband and less of a butler, an idea which they both found intriguing.

It was nearly time for Charles and Elsie to send the staff upstairs for the beginning of the party when a local woman from the village arrived at the back door. Elsie had kindly arranged from one of the older women from the parish church to sit with the children in the nursery so that the nanny could attend the party. She so rarely was included in the staff outings and, at this time of year, everyone was to be invited.

"You go ahead and start encouraging the staff upstairs while I take Mrs. Beauchamp upstairs to the nursery wing. I'll get her settled and join you all shortly. Nanny should have the children dressed and ready for bed so there shouldn't be much for her to do, and I've arranged for Mrs. Patmore to send up a tray of snacks and a pot of tea as soon as the first dance is over.

Charles kissed his wife's cheek. "You think of everything and everyone, love. Don't be too long, though. You know how the Dowager likes to start these things promptly and it's nearly eight."

Elsie rolled her eyes and gave her husband a pat on the arm. "Yes, love. I won't be late, and you just remember to save those dances for me."

"I will, of course, have to dance at least one with the Dowager. It's tradition, after all."

"And, I suppose you'll need to dance with the cook, her assistant, the ladies maids, and at least one with Lady Mary. Tell me, Mr. Carson, is your dance card completely fully for this evening or might you find time to schedule your wife for one dance before midnight?"

He shook his head and pointed towards the stairs. "Don't you need to get Mrs. Beauchamp upstairs sooner rather than later?"

"Yes, Mr. Carson. Whatever you say, Mr. Carson. I'll run along and do that now, Mr. Carson, your butler-ship." She would almost swear she heard her husband mumble something about a cheeky Scot as she retrieved the guest from her sitting room and led the woman upstairs.

Everyone was just getting settled and the music was starting when Elsie joined her husband near the refreshment table. "Everything ready," she asked softly, her playful demeanor from moments ago having been pushed down and replaced by the professional side of her personality.

"Splendid job, as usual, Mrs. Hughes. Everything is in perfect order, and we're merely waiting on His Lordship to say a few words to open up the party before the first dance. Is Mrs. Beauchamp settled upstairs?"

"She is, and she said not to worry about her. I told her we'd have the chauffeur drive her home this evening. I don't want her walking home alone and in the dark. Oh, and Miss Sybbie was asking after you. She had a thousand questions about this evening so it took me a little longer than expected to slip away."

"What kind of questions?"

"About the party. Who's attending? What's it for? Will there be dancing? Will you dance with me? Will I dance with her Donk? Will Granny Violet be here?" She rattled off a few more just to give Charles an idea of the precocious nature of the child. "Well, you get the general idea."

"I'm surprised you're not still there answering questions."

Before she could respond, Robert Crawley tapped the side of his wine glass to gain everyone's attention and to officially open the servant's ball. After thanking everyone for their hard work and loyalty to the family, he made his way over to Mrs. Hughes and offered her his hand while Carson mirrored his actions across the room with Her Ladyship, Cora Crawley.

Soon, the ball was well under way with drinks and food being consumed in copious amounts which led to laughter and a relaxed atmosphere among everyone attending.

True to his word, Charles Carson shared the first dance with his employer, as had his wife, and then they had enjoyed the first of many dances together afterwards. Mr. Branson had cut in once to ask Mrs. Hughes for a "spin around the room" as he called it, giving Mr. Carson an opportunity to escort Lady Mary and then the Dowager Countess through one song each. A shy Albert had tried to dance with Mrs. Hughes, but she soon found he was lighter on her feet than he was the floor, causing her to sit out the next few songs so her toes could recuperate.

But, she didn't mind too much. It gave her an opportunity to observe her charges, and to make sure they were enjoying themselves and eating enough to absorb the glasses of wine that were being consumed. It was a certainty that there would be sore heads come the morning, but that was a small price to pay for the one evening of frivolity. She was watching a young maid dancing with a footman when her husband appeared at her side with a glass of wine for each of them.

"Thought you could use a little refreshment, love. Mind if I join you?" He gave a cursory nod to the chair beside her and sat down before clinking his glass to hers. "Another job, well done. I don't know how you do it every year, but they're certainly going to miss you when you retire."

"And you. Don't forget we said we'd leave together when the time was right, and I'm going to hold you to that promise."

"I also promised you an evening of laughter and dancing, so drink up, lass, and we'll take another turn." Just then, he felt a little tug on the end of his jacket and turned to see Sybbie Branson in her nightgown and bare feet standing beside him.

"Miss Sybbie? What are you doing down here, and where is Mrs. Beauchamp? Gracious, your little toes must be half frozen. It's much too cold to be down here with no slippers."

"She fell asleep as she was reading us a bedtime story. George and Marigold were already asleep so it was really just me. I didn't want to wake her, and I heard the music and everyone seemed to be having a lovely time. I wanted to see what it was all about."

"We should get you back upstairs, young lady. You aren't supposed to be here, and I should go and send Mrs. Beauchamp home. I can sit with you until you fall asleep and Nanny comes to relieve me for the night." Elsie stood and placed her half empty glass on the table and extended her hand to the young girl.

"Please, Mrs. Hughes, can't I stay for just a little bit and watch? I won't move a muscle. You'll never even know I'm here."

Elsie gave her a stern look though she could already feel her resolve, and that of her husband, crumbling under Sybbie's pleading gaze. "Very well, but you know your father is bound to see you sitting here at some point. What will you tell him when he comes over and wants to know why you aren't in bed like the other children in this household?"

She thought for a moment and giggled. "I'll tell him I am like Cinderella from my fairy tale book, and I wanted to dance at the ball."

"And, do you have a particular prince in mind, since you've obviously given this some serious thoughts?"

Sybbie climbed into Mr. Carson's lap and burrowed close to his chest. "I know he's really your prince, Mrs. Hughes, but could I borrow him for a little bit? Papa wouldn't dare get cross with me if I'm sitting with Mr. Carson … or even better … if we're dancing like the grown-ups are doing."

Charles decided it was best if he remained neutral in this particular battle of wills. He couldn't blame the child for her inquisitive nature. After all, her mother had shown a similar spirit at such a tender age. However, it wouldn't do for the child to suffer the consequences of sneaking out of her room and joining a party in only her thin nightgown.

"What if Mr. Carson dances with me … just once … and then I promise to go upstairs and go to sleep? Please? I won't cause any more trouble," she said with a pleading voice and eyes to match.

"I can't see the harm in it," Charles said softly, hoping to convince his wife that all would be well if they only indulged her just this once.

"She has been taking lessons from her aunt, Mr. Carson. They have you wrapped around their little fingers," she said with a subtle wink to Sybbie. "Very well. You shall have your dance with the butler, little lady, and then it's off to bed with you. I'm going to find your father and tell him so you don't get into any trouble, then I'll locate the chauffeur to take our sleeping guest home." She pressed a quick kiss to Sybbie's forehead and patted Charles's arm. "Enjoy your dance, you two."

As the music started up again, Elsie stood beside Tom Branson as they watched Carson escort Sybbie onto the dance floor. Everyone in the room stopped to stare at the unlikely couple as he quietly instructed her to place her bare feet on top of his black polished shoes. Taking her hands gently in his, he guided them around the room, moving swiftly but carefully through the motions.

"She really does love him," Tom said to the woman standing beside him. "You're both so good to her. I won't ever be able to repay you for your kindness towards her. You know that, don't you?"

"The same could be said from us, Mr. Branson. She's the little granddaughter we will never have, if it's not too impertinent to say as much. Just look at Mr. Carson's face. I don't think he's ever been happier, and I'm certain Lady Mary never adored him even a fraction as much as Miss Sybbie does."

Tom glanced over to his sister in law and watched her for a long moment. "Oh, I don't know so much about that, Mrs. Hughes. Seems there's still a bit of the green-eyed monster lurking about in her eyes when it comes to Mr. Carson. While I don't think Lady Mary was ever bold enough to pull half the stunts Sybbie does in regards to you two, I believe she still loves him like a father … a downstairs father, if you will."

As the song drew to an end, Charles leaned down and pressed a kiss to the back of each of Sybbie's hands then lifted the girl in his arms to receive a warm hug as the room erupted with loud clapping and cheering. "All right, Cinderella, let's get you back upstairs before the clock chimes midnight! You've already lost both of your slippers, so goodness knows what will happen next," he teased, earning him a burst of laughter from the bundle in his arms.

"I'll just go with him to make sure he gets her settled and to take care of everything else," Elsie said, excusing herself and following her husband and Sybbie up the stairs and back to the nursery.

With her tucked securely in her bed, Elsie switched off the light and sat in the rocking chair near Sybbie's bed and waited on Nanny to return. She hummed a soft lullaby to soothe the overly excited girl back to sleep, and it seemed to be working.

A half hour later, Charles peeked his head in the nursery door to check on his wife, and he found her sitting quietly and watching the young children sleeping peacefully in their cots. He lowered his voice as much as possible so as not to wake the three of them. "Nanny is on her way up. Mrs. Beauchamp has been safely returned home. And now, love, it's time we were headed that way ourselves."

He stretched out and took her hand in his, helping her from the rocking chair, and drawing her into his arms. With her left hand secured in his right, he slipped his left hand around her waist, pulling her even closer until they were slowly dancing cheek to cheek. "This has been the happiest servant's ball yet, Elsie. We really are very fortunate in so many ways."

"That we are, love," she replied, resting her head against his chest for a moment and enjoying the stillness of the room and the cozy atmosphere. "Let's go home, Charlie. I think it's passed our bedtime, too." Elsie was almost certain she heard a little girl giggle from her cot as she closed the nursery door behind her. But, that would be Nanny's problem now. All Elsie wanted to do was to go home, undress, and crawl into bed with her husband for a good night's sleep and a day off, courtesy of the Crawley family. Briefly, she wondered what Miss Sybbie would do when she discovered that her two favorite people were both taking a much deserved rest.

Oh well … that would be Nanny's problem.

**A/N:** Massive hugs for all of the love for this story and to all the guest reviewers and the tumblr messages … you guys are amazing. Thanks for keeping me motivated!


	5. E is for Elf

**E- is for Elf**

He had listened to his daughter prattling on and on for the last half hour, for the entirety of their walk from the house and around to the lake. He would have sworn she hadn't even paused to take a breath except that was a physical impossibility. And the ideas the child had regarding so many things were astounding. The more time he spent with her, the more he could feel the presence of his late wife, Sybil, in every word and action of their child.

She was at that marvelous age where everything was filled with wonder and excitement … that little bit of magic sprinkled into everyday events and the simplest of actions. Currently, her latest obsession was with the elves that worked with Father Christmas to prepare all the toys and goodies that would be delivered around the world on Christmas Eve.

As they walked back towards the main house, Sybbie began to ask some rather pointed questions which left her Papa at a little bit of a loss.

"Do the elves get paid? Where do they live? Are they really small like the images in my book? Do they ride with Father Christmas and help him or do they get to stay home with their families? How does one become one of his elves that works and lives at the North Pole? And, why don't we ever leave them anything for snacks like we do for the reindeer and Father Christmas? I bet they must be terribly upset about that."

"Those are some very good questions, my darling. Unfortunately, I don't have the answers since I've never been to the North Pole, and I've never met one of his elves. Those are things we may never know. Sometimes, questions aren't meant to have answers," he said, hoping to appease her curiosity on the matter.

For the first time since the beginning of their outing, Sybbie went quiet. Her little mind was sorting all the bits of information she'd learned from her books, her talks with her Papa, Donk, Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes, and her own opinions on the matter. They were almost back to the front door when she spoke again, saying something so simple that he couldn't help but chuckle … mixed with a little bit of pity for the person it involved.

"I'll ask Mr. Carson. He'll know the answers because he knows everything, and he can just call Father Christmas and ask him for me. I bet he wouldn't mind one bit." She took her father's hand and dragged him towards the green baize door. "Let's go and ask him now before he has to get ready for dinner."

Tom allowed himself to be dragged down the familiar staircase and towards Mr. Carson's pantry door. "You should be prepared for him to say no, Sybbie. Mr. Carson is a very busy man and …"

"And, what, Mr. Branson?" Carson's commanding voice echoed through the hallway though the smile on his face put Sybbie Branson right at ease. She dropped her Papa's hand and ran towards the butler, who opened his arms and gratefully accepted a hug. "My, but you're chilly. Have you been outside enjoying the fresh air and snow?"

She nodded her head vigorously. "We went for a walk and had a lovely time."

"Did I hear the voice of a little girl that loves hot chocolate? I was just about to make myself a cup so your timing is perfect," Mrs. Hughes said as she emerged from her sitting room. She soon found herself wrapped in a warm hug, too, as Sybbie greeted her other favorite person. "I'll take that as a "yes" then on the cocoa."

"That would be delicious, Mrs. Hughes, but I have a very important question to ask Mr. Carson. That's why I'm here."

Carson raised his eyebrows at Tom and the two shared a look that was both inquisitive and apologetic. "Please, then, step into my office and we'll wait on Mrs. Hughes to get our hot chocolate before we start our discussion. She may be able to answer your questions, too. She's very knowledgeable, you know." He opened his door and allowed the little girl to enter first and he lingered for a moment in the hallway. "Any words of advice before I am to be inundated with questions?"

Branson did feel a bit sorry for the man who loved his daughter like she was his own flesh and blood. "Elves! She wants to know everything about them, and she believes you have an inside connection. I tried to distract her, but you know what she's like when she gets an idea into her head."

"Yes, I have seen that happen once or twice," Carson quipped. "Let's both hope that Mrs. Hughes is better at thinking on her feet and coming up with a believable tale than either of us, Mr. Branson. She's our only hope. I'll go sit with Miss Sybbie if you'd be so kind as to go to the kitchens and give her a brief explanation of what we're about to encounter. Better to know what she's walking in to."

"I'll do just that, Mr. Carson, and thank you for loving my daughter as you do. She's lucky to have you and Mrs. Hughes, and I'm grateful."

Carson cleared his throat and gave a subtle nod of his head. "And we're appreciative, too, of the opportunity to be so involved in her life, Mr. Branson. She's … special … to both of us." He turned and entered his sitting room, leaving Sybbie's father standing in the corridor and watching silently from the shadows.

When Mrs. Hughes arrived with four cups of hot chocolate, Sybbie climbed down from Mr. Carson's lap and settled in her own chair. "Careful, now, it's still warm. Don't spill it or try to drink it took quickly," the housekeeper warned … giving a stern warning to both her husband and the little girl. She did not miss the not-so-subtle wink Charles gave Sybbie and her two-eyed blink in return. "So, what's this we hear about questions that only Mr. Carson can answer? What's on your mind today?"

As she had done with her father, Sybbie rattled off a series of questions about elves and their working relationship with Father Christmas and the holiday in general. Just listening to her rapidly posing one inquiry after another left both adults in a bit of a flustered state.

"Those are certainly some very interesting points you've raised, but I'm afraid I don't have the answers to them. You see, I've never met an elf, myself, though I'm sure they're treated fairly and enjoy their jobs. I wouldn't think Father Christmas would be a bad employer or a harsh man to work with. Wouldn't you agree, Mrs. Hughes?"

"But, you could call him and get the answers, couldn't you, Mr. Carson? I told Papa you'd know or at least know how to get the answers."

"It's not that easy to get a phone call all the way from Downton Abbey to the North Pole, Miss Sybbie. But, perhaps, while Mr. Carson oversees the preparations for dinner, we could go to my office and write a letter. Sometimes, that's the only way to get the answers we seek, and seeing as how Father Christmas and the elves are certainly busy this time of year, he or they could answer the letter at a more appropriate time."

Sybbie drained the last of the chocolate from her cup and placed it gently back on the serving tray. "I like that idea. I wouldn't want to bother them when they're busy working to get everything ready for Christmas. We could write it and Mr. Carson could send it out with the post tomorrow." She gave an excited squeal of delight at just the mere thought of finally getting some answers and then stopped abruptly. "Mrs. Hughes, I need to be excused for a minute. I need the potty."

"You take care of that, and I'll return the cups to the kitchen," Carson announced, already gathering up their things and excusing himself from the room as his wife led the little girl down the corridor to the bathroom.

While she waited on Sybbie to join her in her office, Elsie stopped her husband on his way upstairs. "I think one of us, mainly you or Mr. Branson, should consider writing a reply to her letter. She won't be put off for long, and she'll recognize my handwriting. You should speak to him about it, and you can show him the letter in the morning."

He kissed her cheek softly then placed one on her lips. "You do think of everything, Mrs. Hughes." He cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb across her lips before turning and heading upstairs to complete his duties.

A week after Sybbie had written her letter and Mr. Carson had "sent it on to Father Christmas," as he had assured the little girl on more than one occasion, she received a special envelope … addressed to one:

_**Sybbie Branson,**_

_**Downton Abbey, Yorkshire**_

_**In care of Mr. Charles Carson.**_

Tom, Mrs. Hughes, and Mr. Carson all watched with fascination as Sybbie accepted the letter addressed to her and carefully inspected it. She noted that there was no stamp on the envelope. _Father Christmas doesn't need to use stamps since he sends letters all over the world. _He has pretty stationary, and it looks like some that Donk has on his writing table in the library. _Well, ivory is a very popular color for paper since it goes so well with all colors of ink. _He didn't answer all of my questions. _Well, you did ask quite a few, and we're sure he answered the ones that he felt were most important in the moment. It is a busy time of year for him, remember. _

She stared at the letter and read it aloud, thankful that Father Christmas had used simple words with which she was very familiar. All three adults listened as she carefully sounded out one or two of the words, successfully pronouncing them and smiling as the finished the last line.

"Well, there we have it. I'd say the elves are very happy and love their jobs. And, I bet you are the only child in the world that has ever sent a letter asking about their wellbeing. I'm sure it's nice for them to know that you are concerned about them, too, and not just the man who brings you toys." Mr. Carson patted the child on the head and gave her a soft smile.

"I suppose so," she said, handing Mrs. Hughes the letter that had, only moments before, brought her so much excitement and joy. It was clear by her slumped shoulders and downcast eyes that something was bothering her.

The housekeeper looked from Mr. Branson to Mr. Carson then down at the little girl. She knelt in front of her and took both of her little hands in hers. "Whatever's the matter, lass? We thought you'd be pleased to get a letter in reply and a very personal one, at that."

"I am, but … I was sort of hoping to hear from one of the elves. It's nice to get a letter from Father Christmas but … doesn't matter. I'm sure it's lovely working at the North Pole and making toys all year around, getting to play with them first and make everyone so happy."

Elsie drew the little girl into a hug and kissed the top of her head. "I wouldn't give up hope just yet, love. Maybe you got the letter to answer your questions because everyone was in a hurry and they have a tight schedule to keep. It's quite possible that in a few days time, you'll get another reply or they'll send word somehow to let you know that they appreciate your concern." She tucked a little curl behind Sybbie's ear and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Mrs. Patmore was baking a cake today. I bet, if we ask nicely, she might let us lick the bowl. Should we go ask?"

"I think we should, Mrs. Hughes. It would be a shame for the batter to go to waste because it won't fit in the baking pan."

"How'd you get so smart, young lady?"

"Must be because I spend so much time with you, Mr. Carson, and Papa," she said in a very blunt and honest manner before leaving three stunned and very flattered adults in her wake.

As Elsie and Charles lay in bed that night, she couldn't stop tossing and turning. Just when Charles was about to fall asleep, his wife would sigh loudly and twist once more until he couldn't take it any longer. He switched on the bedside lamp causing them both to squint until their eyes had adjusted to the light.

"Will you please tell me what's on your mind so we can discuss it and then get some sleep?" There was no anger or malice in his voice, only a deep and sincere concern to learn what was disturbing their rest.

"I just can't get her little face out of my head. She was so upset, Charlie. She had really hoped for a letter from one of the elves and all we gave her were simple answers to questions she didn't even really ask."

He ran his hand over his face and plumped the pillow so he could sit up properly. "And what were we supposed to do, Elsie? We couldn't very well lie to the child. In a few more years, she'll work out the truth and then we run the risk of her hating us for the deception. I, for one, couldn't bare that, and I know you couldn't either."

"I don't mean it like that. Of course, she'll learn the truth sooner than later but right now … today … she's still a child and believes in all the magic. She has a large heart and wants to know everyone else is as happy and loved as she feels. That's all."

He opened his arms and drew her against his side, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before shifting the blankets a little tighter around her. "I know someone else who is cut from the same cloth, Elsie Hughes Carson." He placed his index finger beneath her chin and forced her to look up at him before he lowered his lips to hers for a rather loving and lingering set of kisses. When he pulled back, he rubbed his nose against hers and pressed his cheek to her head. "Would it surprise you to know that I'd already given the matter some thought, though I had hoped to sleep on it first before giving voice to the idea?"

"Oh, Charlie! You really are an old softie, and I love you for it."

"Little less of the old bit, thank you very much. But, wait until you hear my idea. You may hate it and Mr. Branson may not agree. After all, he will have the final say since it's his daughter we're spoiling."

She snuggled into his side and toyed with the buttons on his pyjama shirt as he explained his idea. And, the more she heard, she more she was on board with the whole idea, ready to play her part. It shouldn't take much convincing with Mr. Branson, if any at all, and at the end of the day, Sybbie would have her answers.

The following day, Charles Carson made an unexpected visit into the village where he enlisted the help of Mr. Bakewell. He explained, briefly, the situation with Miss Sybbie and her questions about elves, along with the other reason for his visit. Within a three quarters of an hour, Mr. Carson had exactly what he needed and he left the shop with a spring in his step and a smile on his face.

When he entered the back door of the servants' hall, he heard his wife and Mr. Branson in her sitting room, no doubt discussing the plan and how it was to be implemented. "Ah, Mr. Carson, you're back. Did everything go as planned?"

He patted his jacket pocket and shook the little paper bag in his hand. "Indeed it did. Am I to assume that we are all agreed, and you've no objections, Mr. Branson? We wouldn't want to impose or step on toes."

"Mr. Carson, where my daughter is concerned, I doubt you could do either of those things. One day, she will be told the truth about all these little things you've done for her, and she will love you all the more for them. I'll make sure of it. Now, Mrs. Hughes filled me in on the plan, and if you need any assistance form me, you need only ask. Otherwise, I'll leave it all in your expert hands."

That evening, as the children slept, Mrs. Hughes crept into the nursery and left a little note and a peppermint stick on Sybbie's bedside table. Mr. Bakewell had been more than willing to write the letters so that the child wouldn't recognize the handwriting from previous letters from Father Christmas or anyone else in the household, a little stroke of genius born from Mr. Carson's attention to every detail.

_Dear Miss Sybbie,_

_We thank you for your questions. Father Christmas told us about your inquiries, and while we are busy, we hope to be able to answer them … though not all at once. We do have a schedule to keep if we're to make all the toys for boys and girls for Christmas Eve. _

_With kindest regards,_

_Winston – Head Elf_

And every day for the next week, Sybbie would crawl into bed with a smile on her face, knowing that the next morning she would be receiving a short note, one sweet treat, and an answer to one of the questions from her letter. And, as predicted, each morning, she would wait, rather impatiently, for Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes to stop by the nursery to see what new information had been received from her new friend at the North Pole … an elf named Winston.

On Christmas Eve, as they readied for bed, Elsie slipped up behind her husband and hugged him, pressing her cheek against his back. "I love you so, Charlie. I don't think you realize just how much."

He patted her hands which were laced across his chest. "And I love you, too, Elsie, and you tell me and show me every day." He turned and wrapped her up in his arms, kissing her soundly until they were both left a little breathless.

"You've made this Christmas the most wonderful one I've ever known," she said, her voice a little muffled as she buried her face in his shirt, inhaling deeply and reveling in the warmth and scent of her husband.

"Goodness, and I haven't even give you your presents yet, lass. What have I done to deserve all this adoration?"

"Come to bed, Winston, and I'll be more than happy to explain … in great detail," she said with an impish smile in her eyes. She took his hand in hers and started leading him towards their warm and comfortable bed.

"Do you think she'll like her gift from Winston in the morning? It seemed a good idea at the time, but now … I'm not so sure."

"It's fine, love. I'm sure she'll be raving about it for the next six months, at least. We'd best practice being surprised when she shows us the toy elf you managed to have sent in from Hamleys in London. She'll never believe it."

Without any warning, Charles gripped Elsie's sides and began to tickle her, a move which caused her to yelp and squirm in surprise, until the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed and she topped backwards, her laugher filling the bedroom.

Charles stared down at her with dark eyes and grinned. "How's that for surprises, Elsie? I do have a few more tricks up my sleeves."

She stretched out both arms in a silent invitation to him. "Let's see what you've got, Charlie. I have a few surprises of my own."

By mid-morning on Christmas Day, everyone in the household had heard the story of Winston and the toy elf he'd sent along to Sybbie, delivered, of course by Father Christmas. After all, Winston was a tired elf who had enjoyed a lovely evening with his wife in their very warm cottage … as visions of sugarplums danced in their heads … eventually.

**A/N:** Candy canes and sugarplums for all. Thank you so much for the reviews and love! It makes me so happy to know you're enjoying these little moments with Charles, Elsie, and Sybbie. Fun fact: Hamleys is an actual London toy store that's been in business since 1760 and been in its current location on Regent Street since 1881. Definitely worth a visit if you have time while visiting London!


	6. F is for Fire

**F –is for Fire**

The Carsons had enjoyed a leisurely day off at their home. They'd lounged around in their warm bed, enjoying the closeness of being happily married, taken a late breakfast of tea and toast, and generally spent the day doing very little. As the day progressed, little household chores were completed: dishes washed, light dusting, straightening up the sitting room, but mainly they had simply reveled in the company of one another, with no interruptions. When they were at work, those types of uninterrupted interludes were few and far between.

After lunch, Charles had stoked the fire in the fireplace until it was blazing with life while Elsie had retrieved their books from their bedside tables. Soon, they were both snuggled together under a blanket on their sofa, each engrossed in their novels and occasionally breaking the silence with a funny anecdote or observation.

Charles was first to finish his book, and he couldn't have been happier about that. It gave him a chance to observe his wife as she followed the twists and turns in the final pages of her story, a murder mystery that she'd been encouraging him to read. He couldn't help but smirk softly as he watched her eyes widen and her teeth began to worry her bottom lip. And then, with a very soft gasp, apparently the murderer was revealed … obviously someone Elsie hadn't been expecting which meant it was very good indeed.

"Well, I never saw that coming," she commented as she closed the book and tossed it to the end of the sofa. "Charlie, you have to read that one. It's good and will keep you guessing until the end. Trust me."

He drew her closer and ran his hand up and down her arm, enjoying the closeness of the moment. "I'll start it tomorrow, then, since it comes so highly recommended." His lips brushed across her temple in a light kiss causing her to sigh sweetly and close her eyes in contentment.

"What should we do for the rest of the day? I don't want to start another book, and it's too early for dinner."

"We should probably finish decorating the Christmas tree," she answered, looking over to their little evergreen in the corner of the room. Charles had bought fairy lights for it and after carefully stringing them around the tree, both he and Elsie had toyed with the idea of leaving it undecorated. They had accumulated a few ornaments after their marriage, but there was something magical about seeing the lit tree sparkling in the corner of the room without many embellishments.

"I was wondering about that. I know we hadn't fully decided but it would be a shame and a waste if we didn't put at least a few ornaments on the tree. And they are pretty ones," he said, shifting a little so Elsie was sitting next to him instead of lounging against him. "I'll just go up in the attic and get the box. Won't be a minute." A quick peck to her lips, and he was heading towards the staircase when an urgent knock and yelling sounded from the front door.

"MR. CARSON! MRS. HUGHES! PLEASE, OPEN UP. IT'S URGENT!" The unmistakable sound of Tom Branson's voice echoed through the Carson's cottage, causing both occupants to startle at the sound.

In five long strides, Charles reached the front door, Elsie quickly following behind, as he opened it to find a panicked Tom standing on their doorstep cradling a shivering and sopping wet Miss Sybbie. Immediately, the Carsons moved aside so he could enter their home and begin to explain.

"I took her ice skating today. It was fine until she slipped and slid over to the less frozen bit of the lake. The ice broke and she fell through. I reached her quickly but she's soaked to the skin, and it's took far to carry her back to the house. Please, can you help us?"

The worry and terror in his eyes was enough to send a shiver down Elsie's spine. She'd known of a lad in her youth who had lost his life in a similar incident. He'd fallen through, been rescued, but had caught a terrible cold and died. An icy hand gripped her heart as she quickly banished that memory from her mind.

"Give her to me! I'll take her upstairs and get her out of these wet things. Charlie, you go run a very hot bath, please. Not quite as hot as the ones you take, but close. Mr. Branson, I want you to go into the kitchen and look in the cupboard over the sideboard. There, you'll find a whisky bottle. Have a large one to calm your nerves and rest for a moment. Then, you're to go to the house and fetch her some clean and warm clothes."

"Mrs. Hughes, I'm so cold," her little voice said rather shakily. "I didn't mean to fall into the water. It was an accident."

Elsie kissed the little girl in her arms and gave her a reassuring smile. "We know, lass, and we'll get you all warmed up in a minute. Now, let's go upstairs and see what we can do about something for you to wear while Mr. Carson draws your bath." She squeezed Tom's arm, quietly comforting him and silently promising that all would be well, before quickly heading upstairs to her bedroom.

"Bath's all drawn, Elsie. Should I send for the doctor? Maybe there's something else we should be doing?" It was clear by the shaking in his voice that her husband had been scared at seeing the little girl shivering and almost limp in the arms of her father.

"Let's see how we do with the bath and dry clothes. Go check on Mr. Branson and toss a large log in the fire in the sitting room. Once she's dry, I'll wrap her in a blanket, and we'll settle down there until he returns with her clothes.

Charles took Sybbie's hand in his and placed a kiss to her knuckles. "I'll go make us some hot chocolate. That'll warm us right up, from our toes to our nose," he said, giving the child a little wink. With his heart still pounding wildly in his chest, he made his way to the kitchen, intent on making the cocoa but also having a wee dram for himself to steel his frayed nerves.

With the little girl settled in her very warm bath, Elsie took a few minutes in her bedroom to take a few deep breaths. One minute, she had been lounging quietly with her husband and talking of decorating their tree and the next they had been jolted into action, adrenaline racing and hearts thumping. "Everything all right, lass?" She was rummaging around in the bedroom trying to find something suitable for her to wear until her father returned.

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes. It's nice and warm in here. I like it much better than the lake water. Should I wash my hair since I'm in the bath? You have some very pretty smelling soap."

Elsie chuckled to herself at how resilient the child seemed to be. "Yes, love. Wash your hair. We'll get that lake water rinsed out, and send you home smelling like sunshine and roses."

"Is that the name of your soap? Does Mr. Carson use it, too, because I've never thought he smelled like flowers and sunshine? He smells more like perfume, but the kind for a boy, not a girl."

She joined the little girl in the bathroom and held out one of Charles's vests and a long sleeved shirt. "Let me rinse your hair, then we're going to get you into these clothes we're borrowing from Mr. Carson. He won't mind, and it'll be easier for you to walk. My nightgowns are too long for you."

When the two descended the stairs, they went straight into the living room where Charles had a roaring fire going, three steaming mugs of hot chocolate, and a blanket warming by the fire. "We're all better, I think, Mr. Carson. And Miss Sybbie thanks you for the loan of your clothes. We didn't think you'd mind since she was in a bit of a quandary."

He quickly picked up the blanket that had been by the fire and wrapped Sybbie up tightly, as if he was swaddling a newborn. "You shouldn't be walking around this cottage with no socks on your feet. You'll catch another chill, and the last thing we want is for you to be sick at Christmas." He sat down with her in front of the fireplace and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. "I don't think you have a fever so that's good, though you are a little warm."

"Mr. Carson," Elsie chided gently, "it's most likely because she just left a steamy bathroom, you've wrapped her tighter than a present, and you're sitting in front of the fire. Give her a little breathing room." She kissed Charles on his forehead then gave Sybbie one as well before she gently unwrapped the child then draped the blanket around her once more. "There, much better, wouldn't you agree?"

"I can move my arms now, Mrs. Hughes," she giggled. She flailed her arms around, in case either adult had been unsure of their ability to work, and she accidentally hit Charles on the nose. "Sorry, Mr. Carson. I didn't mean it."

"Quite all right, love. I shouldn't have had it in your way." He tickled her until she was gasping for breath, her laughter filling their little cottage.

"That's enough, you two. This cocoa isn't going to drink itself, and I think we could all use the sweet treat. Then, why don't we see about hanging a few ornaments while we wait on your Papa to return with some clothes for you? Would you like that?"

"You mean, I'll get to help you decorate your very own tree? I'd like that very much."

Both Charles and Elsie watched Sybbie closely as she drank her hot chocolate and warmed by the fire. Her eyelids were growing heavy, no doubt from the exhaustion of the afternoon and the warmth of the bath and fire. When she finished her drink, she placed it on the table and crawled into Elsie's lap.

"Can I just sit here with you for a bit?" she asked around a very long yawn.

Charles moved the rocking chair closer to the hearth and helped Elsie settle with the child on her lap, her little body wrapped in the blanket from earlier.

When Tom Branson returned, he found his daughter and the mother figure in his life curled up together being warmed by the fire. Charles ushered him into the kitchen where they shared a drink.

"I'm sorry it took so long, Mr. Carson, truly I am. When I got to the house, I had to explain what happened and where Sybbie was, then have nanny gather some clothes. His Lordship wanted to close off that portion of the pond so someone else didn't fall in so he asked me to take him down and show him where we were. I didn't mean to stay as long as I did."

"It's fine. I think the shock from the water and the experience, itself, took its' toll … that and the hot chocolate and bath. But, she's good and warm now, and she knows she's safe so that's all that matters."

"She and Mrs. Hughes do look rather comfortable."

Charles thought back to earlier in the day how he had Elsie had enjoyed a cuddle on their sofa by the fire, and how his mind had wandered to how they might spend the rest of their day and evening together. Now, though, he very much doubted either of them would be in the mood for those types of activities, so perhaps he would heat up some soup and share a lovely fireside dinner with his wife. "Would you like to leave her here a bit longer or do you need to get back to the house? I'm sure everyone there is just as concerned about her."

"We can spare a few more minutes, Mr. Carson. It's nice to have a moment to breathe after everything that's happened today. I can't thank you enough for all you did to help."

"Nonsense. All we did was what anyone else would have done. A log on the fire, some rational thinking, and a little tender loving care … that's all she really needed to make her right as rain."

"And she received all of that and then some in your home." Tom had to wipe away a stray tear before it fell down his cheek and made Mr. Carson uncomfortable with such a display of emotions. "I suppose I should wake her and get her dressed for the ride home. She'll certainly have a tale to share in the nursery."

"Make sure nanny keeps the nursery extra warm tonight and Miss Sybbie has an extra blanket on her bed. It also wouldn't hurt to have a little lamp on in case she has a nightmare. Of course, I'm sure you'll have already thought of all these things. I don't mean to tell you what to do."

"I hadn't thought of some of those things, actually, and you're only telling me out of love for my daughter. I appreciate it, and I'm sure Mrs. Hughes will have her own set of instructions for me," he said with a smirk.

"Most definitely. Suppose we'd better to wake the sleeping beauties and let you be on your way. We will call up to the house tomorrow to check on her, if you don't object."

"I wouldn't mind at all. And you can bet she'll be in your pantry or Mrs. Hughes's sitting room the first chance she gets on Thursday. Better stock up on those peppermint sticks or lemon drops."

"More like cough drops, if she catches a cold from all of this."

The two men stood in the doorway and watched silently as Elsie and Sybbie snoozed in the rocking chair by the fireplace. It would be an image both men would cherish for years to come.

**A/N:** Day 6 is now in the books, and I can't thank you enough for the amazing reviews. I'm trying to reply to reviews as they come in but I missed yesterday. I'll try to catch up asap! Many thanks for all the love and support. Chelsie On!


	7. G is for Garland

**G –is for Garland**

"I'm so glad I got to come home with you today, Mrs. Hughes. I hope Mr. Carson doesn't mind staying behind and working while we girls go and have some fun at his house." Sybbie held Mrs. Hughes's hand in her own and swayed it back and forth as they walked down the gravel pathway to the cottage.

"Oh, I don't think he minded too much. He had some things he needed to finish. Your Papa will bring him home when he comes by to get you tonight. So, we have the entire day to work on our project. Isn't that exciting?" She dropped the child's hand and opened the cottage door, pausing in the doorway to remove their winter coats, hats, scarves, and boots.

Sybbie walked through the familiar house and perched on the sofa, swinging her legs back and forth while she waited for instructions. "I've never done this before but it sounds so exciting. Do you think Nanny, George, and Marigold will like it? I'm glad they didn't want to help because I like it when it's just you and me."

Elsie smiled sweetly at the child. "Well, if they had decided to help, we would have been grateful and would have been very welcoming, wouldn't we? It's always nice to include others, especially in fun things that we get to do."

Sybbie thought on that for a moment, unsure of how she felt about the matter. "Maybe, but not in the things I get to do with you and Mr. Carson. They can play with Nanny or Mr. Barrow or Anna. I don't mind it when they sit with us when we're reading books but that's different."

Elsie made a mental note to work more on including the other children a little more in the future to expose Sybbie to the idea of sharing the attentions of others and being more inclusive. Today, however, she was going to enjoy the time at the cottage with her favorite little girl. If anyone asked, however, she would deny having a favorite among the children in the nursery.

"Mr. Mason gave us a whole basket of cranberries, so we must remember to write him a lovely thank you note. You could work on drawing him a Christmas tree tomorrow, if you'd like to give him something in return. And, Mr. Carson went to a lot of trouble to pop us some popcorn last night. We might make him a tree, as well."

While she was talking, she was gathering up all the items they would need for their afternoon project and moving them into the sitting room. Popcorn, cranberries, thread, two needles, and an apron from the kitchen were all spread out on the little table. "The apron is for you, love. We wouldn't want you to get any of the cranberry juices on your clothes or the maids will not be best pleased, and I wouldn't like that at all."

Carefully, she described how to make popcorn and cranberry garland to Sybbie and then showed her the steps until she had several pieces of each item attached in the start of a beautiful strand. "Now, remember to be extra careful with the needle. It is sharp so be mindful of those little fingers. We don't want any accidents or tears today."

"Should we make Mr. Carson a popcorn garland strand for his office? I bet it would look really nice with one around the door or maybe even attached to his desk. We could surprise him with it when he goes upstairs," she said with a giddy laugh.

Elsie couldn't help but join in her laughter. The very idea of Charles coming back to his office to find it decorated with popcorn was more than a little amusing … and tempting. "Let's see how much we have for your tree and then we can decide. You could always draw the garland on the tree you're doing to make him as a thank you card. And, it would last longer than the other type," she added sensibly, trying to spare Charles the office invasion.

For the next hour, Elsie watched closely as Sybbie worked on creating the perfect strand. She made sure to put two cranberries on the thread then one piece of popcorn, occasionally eating a piece or two along the way. She was concentrating so hard, her little tongue sticking out between her lips as she carefully threaded the cranberries then gently biting her bottom lip when she added the pieces of popcorn. To Elsie, it was fascinating and a little like watching a miniature version of herself at that age.

Memories flooded Elsie's mind of doing similar activities with her Mam and Gran during the holidays, and it warmed her heart that she was able to make similar memories with this little girl who adored her and whom she loved in return. "You keep working on that, and I'll go make us some hot chocolate. How's that sound?"

"That sounds delicious. Do you think we could have a biscuit or two while we work? It's hard having to concentrate, and if I eat all the popcorn, I won't have any left for the tree." She hoped her rationale would win over the housekeeper and earn her at least two biscuits.

"Oh dear. I believe Mr. Carson ate the last of the biscuits last night while he was working on your popcorn. Isn't that a shame? If only you'd asked for a slice of the chocolate cake he bought in the village the other day … now that I do have. But, I know what it's like to have your heart set on biscuits …"

Sybbie's eyes grew wide, and her excitement was palpable. "But, I like cake! And I am sure Mr. Carson wouldn't mind me having a tiny piece of it? I could save him some popcorn, if you think he'd like that in return."

Elsie kissed her on the top of the head. "I was only teasing you, love. He bought the cake so he could have some but also so we could have a little sweet treat to help us with our important garland job. Wasn't that awfully nice of him?"

"He's the best. I'm glad he likes chocolate cake, too, like me." She turned her attention back to the task at hand while Elsie went into the kitchen to plate up a slice of cake and to make the hot chocolate for them to sip. It wouldn't be long before Mr. Branson and her husband would return, but a little nibble of something sweet couldn't hurt any more than the popcorn.

They had just put the last of their things away when Mr. Branson and Mr. Carson returned to the cottage. Sybbie refused to show either of them the strands of garland tucked safely away in the basket Mrs. Hughes had brought from the house.

"I want it to be a surprise tomorrow. Nanny said she would help me put it on the tree in the nursery, and then we can let you see it. It's going to be so pretty, isn't it Mrs. Hughes? We worked very hard on it, and I think it's going to make the tree even prettier than the one downstairs. Maybe Granny and Donk will ask us to make a strand for their tree. Wouldn't that be something special?"

"It would indeed, Miss Sybbie. I'm sure your garland will be some of the prettiest we've ever seen … and tasty, too." Mr. Carson tapped her on the end of the nose and grinned. "And, by any chance, did you sample the chocolate cake I had in the kitchen?"

"How'd you know," she gasped with astonishment?

"Oh, I have my ways," he answered with a wink, not bothering to tell her she had chocolate around the corners of her mouth and a little hot chocolate moustache above her lip. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I think I'll have a slice, myself, before bed … assuming you and Mrs. Hughes left me a slice."

"We left you a little one, Mr. Carson. And a handful of popcorn, too, if you're interested. We appreciate you popping that for us so we didn't have to waste time doing it today." Elsie flashed him a warm smile, one that was filled with love and gratitude for all he did.

"Just you wait until tomorrow when you see what we did. It's going to look so pretty." Sybbie bounced up and down and clapped her hands. "But, you must promise not to sneak into the nursery and peek. Do you both promise?"

Tom scooped Sybbie up into his arms and tickled her until her squeals of delight filled the Carson's cottage and she was gasping for air.

"Careful, Mr. Branson. We've had quite the little buffet tonight, and no one wants to mop the floor tonight." Elsie gave him a pat on the back and kissed Sybbie on the forehead. "Now, this little one needs to get home so she can get cleaned up and ready for bed. She has a big decorating project tomorrow, and it wouldn't do to be half asleep when she's stringing garland."

The next morning, after breakfast in the nursery, Sybbie, Nanny, Marigold, and George opened the basket Mrs. Hughes had sent up earlier. Sybbie explained to the others how they had created the edible garland, leaving out the details about all the little snacks she had enjoyed in case they found they, too, wanted to be included in the next project. "All we have to do now is to put it on our tree and then we can have everyone come and see how lovely it is. I told Mrs. Hughes they might ask us to make some for the big tree downstairs. It will be a big job but I think we can manage it, if Mr. Carson makes a lot more popcorn for us."

With Nanny supervising, it didn't take long for the children to hang the popcorn garland and cranberry garland on the tree, taking care to tuck it gently among the branches so that the little lights and ornaments were all showcased perfectly. When they were satisfied with how it looked, and had cleaned up the small mess they'd made in the floor, Nanny took the children downstairs to their parents so they could announce their big surprise.

Sybbie tugged on Nanny's sleeve until the older woman looked down. "We mustn't forget Mrs. Hughes, and Mrs. Carson, though. I promised them they could see it, too."

"We won't forget them. I promise. Once the family has seen it, I'll ring for Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes to come up to the nursery to see us. We must always keep our word so they will see it as soon as the family has left. Will that do?"

"Oh, yes! That's fine. Then, we will know if we have to make extra for downstairs. Best to be prepared, Mr. Carson always says." With her head held high and a spring in her step, Sybbie ran forward and joined her cousins as they descended the grand staircase and made their way to the library.

While the children and their nanny were downstairs, all was not well in the nursery. In their haste and excitement to go downstairs, they had forgotten to close the door, and an intruder slipped in quietly and without notice.

George was the first to notice the door wide open when they reached the landing. "You forgot to close the door, Sybbie. Nanny always says to keep it closed so Tiaa can't get in to our stuff. I hope she hasn't eaten any of our toys!"

Sybbie dropped Tom's hand and ran towards the opened door, making it there before any of the adults. But, as soon as she looked inside the nursery, she gave a loud yell and burst into tears. "TIAA! GET OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW! YOU'RE A VERY BAD DOG AND I DON'T LOVE YOU ANYMORE." Her wails startled all of the adults … and one very confused Labrador ... who ran out of the room and down the staircase.

Tom brushed past everyone and when he reached his daughter's side, she threw herself into his arms and sobbed, large tears wetting his collar and suit coat. "She ruined everything, and you didn't even get to see it. She ate it all and destroyed the tree, too, and we worked so hard on that for two whole days!"

It was clear to everyone that the child was absolutely heartbroken and, at the moment, inconsolable. Mary, Edith, Cora, Robert, and the children returned downstairs, giving Tom some time alone with his distraught daughter.

He scooped her into his arms as she cried, trying desperately to soothe her but with no such luck. "Nanny, please ring for Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes."

"They're going to hate me just like I hate Tiaa. I never want to see her again. I don't want her playing with me anymore. She ate the garland and look at all the ornaments that are broken. We don't even have a tree or pretty decorations, and it's all her fault."

"Sybbie, you don't mean any of that. It was an accident, and she didn't know the popcorn wasn't for eating. How many pieces did you have yesterday when you were stringing it with Mrs. Hughes? Hmmm? More than a few, I'll wager."

"But, Mr. Carson made that especially for us so we could eat some and use the rest. I didn't tell Tiaa she could have the popcorn. She just came in and took it."

"I'm sure she feels very guilty about that, and she didn't know any better. I'm sure if she'd known how special the garland was, she wouldn't have touched the first piece. As for the decorations, well, I'm sure we can replace those and the tree will fit back in its stand once we get it upright."

Just then, the two heads of the household appeared in the doorway, instantly assessing the situation and immediately working through a checklist of thing to do to clear away the mess. "How may we help, Mr. Branson?"

Sybbie leapt from her father's arms and ran straight to Mr. Carson. He knelt down and enveloped the little sobbing girl into his arms and held her tightly. "There, there, Miss Sybbie. No need for all the tears. I'm sure we can easily fix the situation with more popcorn and a little patience," he said, trying to soothe her fresh tears.

"But, you didn't even get to see it. Nobody did, except Mrs. Hughes and us this morning when we decorated. It was going to be so special and now it's all ruined because of Donk's dog. She had no right to ruin Christmas."

"Oh dear, I should hope it would take a lot more than that to ruin Christmas, lass." Elsie knelt beside the child and brushed her hair back from her face. "Let's try to look on the bright side of things, hmm?"

"There's not a bright side," she pouted.

"Oh, but there is. Don't you see?" She watched Sybbie brush the back of her hand across her eyes, ridding them of the large tears, if only for a moment. "You had so much fun yesterday making the garland strands so you'll get to do it all again another day. Your Papa can take you and the other children into the village to get a few new ornaments to replace the broken ones." She leaned forward and whispered rather loudly so that Mr. Branson and Mr. Carson could also hear her. "I bet if you asked sweetly, and forgave poor Tiaa for sampling your treats, we might be able to convince Mrs. Patmore to make us a chocolate cake to share while you teach Marigold and George how to string popcorn and cranberries together."

"Will … will you help us, too?" She slipped from Carson's arms to Elsie's and snuggled against the woman she loved like a grandmother.

"Maybe, for a little bit. But, I've taught you, just like my Gran and Mam taught me. So, I'm sure you could show them how without my help. And, you could teach Nanny. She might enjoy having a little fun with it, too. Then, when it's all finished, you can hang it on your newly decorated tree and have a big piece of cake to celebrate."

"I'll even volunteer to pop more corn, if you'd like." Carson took her hand in his and gave it a little squeeze. "You just tell me when you need it, and I'll make sure you have more than enough to use and to eat. But, first, we must dry those tears … and maybe think about apologizing to Tiaa for scaring her so badly."

"Why should I apologize to her? She is the one that ate my decorations and pulled over the tree."

"She did. We can't deny that. However, she is still very young and didn't know any better and there was no one around to stop her from doing so. She might have been very hurt if the tree had fallen on her or if she'd swallowed any of the string. That's not good for a little dog to snack on, just like it's not good for you," he said, gently poking her in the tummy to make her giggle.

"Can I wait until tomorrow to apologize? I don't feel like it just yet."

"Better to do it now so she doesn't worry all night that you're upset with her. That's not a very good feeling, Sybbie." Tom walked over to the little trio and reached down for his daughter's hand. "We will go find her and then come back upstairs to help clean up. And, for what it's worth, I'm sure the second string of garland you make it going to be even prettier than the first. Do you want to know why?"

She shook her head and took his hand as Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes watched in silence.

"Because the first set was made with care and the second set will be made with love." He kissed his daughter's head and gave a grateful smile to the butler and housekeeper as they made their way back downstairs to complete their mission.

When they were out of earshot, Charles reached down and took Elsie's hand in his. "Thank goodness, I'm not Tiaa! That dog is lucky to be alive."

"Thank goodness I'm not Nanny. She'll have three little ones to guard when they start working on the new garland and the chocolate cake. And you, Mr. Carson, had better make more than enough popcorn or you'll be next on her list," she teased, giving him a kiss then heading downstairs to enlist a few maids to help with the tidying up of the nursery.

**A/N:** You guys are amazing, and I cannot thank you enough for all of the love and attention you're giving to this set of Chelsie/Sybbie stories. I always look forward to hearing what you enjoyed most in each chapter. I want to hug you all! I haven't had a chance to reply to reviews but I promise to get to each of them this weekend. xoxo


	8. H is for Horse

**H – is for Horse**

Of all the things Mr. Carson expected to hear, this was certainly not one of them. His morning routine had been the same as it always was … nothing out of the ordinary. The footmen knew their tasks and started on them promptly after breakfast without having to be told or redirected. No wine deliveries were expected. No guests were scheduled. No large dinner parties for the evening … just the family. In truth, it should have been a rather quiet and uneventful day in the house.

Until a quiet knock sounded on his door a little after luncheon. It was a soft rap that he knew quite well.

He stood and walked over to the door rather than simply calling out for the person to enter. When he opened it, he smiled down at the little girl who was rocking back and forth from toes to heels. "Miss Sybbie, to what do I owe the honor of your visit?"

She looked up at him with a very serious expression on her face, one that meant she wasn't here simply for a sweet treat or looking for Mrs. Hughes. "I came to see you because I need your help, and you're the only one I can ask."

"Oh dear! It sounds serious. Perhaps you'd like to step inside and take a seat," he said, moving out of the doorway and allowing her to enter. He waited until she was settled in the chair in front of his desk before he eased the door almost shut. "Would you like me to fetch Mrs. Hughes for this discussion or shall we see what I can do to help first?"

"Just you, please. I know you can help me, and you are the one that tells everyone else what to do, aside from Mrs. Hughes," she added quickly, not wanting to betray her best friend. "Everyone talks about Carson so I knew you were the one to ask."

Charles cleared his throat and sat a little straighter in his chair, hoping to show the little girl he was taking her as seriously as he could. "That's high praise coming from you, and I appreciate it." He clapped his hands together then rested them on his knees. "Right, tell me what I might do to help and we'll start there. I can't make any promises, though, just so we're clear."

Sybbie mimicked his movements, trying to sit as straight as a tree in her chair, clapping her hands once in front of her, and then placing them on her thighs. "I need a job, Mr. Carson, and I was hoping you'd hire me." She said it so plainly and with no hint of teasing but with a determined look in her eyes and a thinning of her lips.

He paused for a moment, processing what she'd just asked. He hadn't expected anything like that nor was he quite sure how to respond. Instead of answering her straight away, he decided to seek a little more clarification. "And, why, might I ask, would you need a job at Downton Abbey?"

"I was hoping you wouldn't ask me that, Mr. Carson. Do I really have to tell you?"

His curiosity was certainly piqued and now he knew he had to hear every detail of how she arrived at this grand revelation and request. "Well, it would help me to understand the situation and different ways I might be able to help." He leaned forward a little in his chair, close enough to tap her shoe with his index finger. "Did you, by chance, accidentally break something upstairs that might need replacing?"

She shook her head. "I didn't break anything, I promise."

"Are you so terribly bored in the nursery that the only way you can think of to occupy your time is to do chores around the house?" He knew that one was a longshot given her vivid imagination and love of reading and drawing.

"No, sir. I have lots of things to do, and when I don't, I come down here to visit you and Mrs. Hughes. And I have my dolls and tea set, too, if you are too busy when I visit. And Mrs. Patmore sometimes lets me help with baking biscuits. I like being her tester. Maybe she would hire me, if you asked her nicely."

"Is that why you need a job? So you can have more biscuits? We mustn't eat too many of them or they'll make us sick. Believe me, I learned that lesson the hard way in my own youth, and you don't want a tummy ache like that."

"Oh no, Mr. Carson. I would need real money, not biscuit money. I need some money that I can use in the village."

He nodded his head in understanding. At least they were getting closer to a real answer, though he wasn't sure he was going to like the truth when it finally came to light. "You're not planning to run away, are you? Father Christmas wouldn't like that very much, and he might not be able to find you at all. Wouldn't that be horrible?"

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "I'd never run away from home. I wouldn't see Papa or you or Mrs. Hughes again and that would make me so very sad. No, I would like to live here forever with you and my family."

"Then, forgive me for asking, but why, exactly, do you need a job? I can't very well hire you unless I know you're serious about the work and are willing to do what's required of you to complete the task. That's how getting a job works. You tell someone your skills, and if they need the help and think you'll do a very good job, they let you prove yourself for a fair wage."

"Oh, I can promise you I'd be a very hard worker, and I'd do whatever you told me to do. I just can't lift heavy things or serve at dinner. And I'm not allowed to go near the fireplace or candles, so I couldn't do any of those jobs. I'm good at drawing and counting. Maybe I could help you with your books that you're always writing in with your nice pen and ink set?"

"Dear me. I'm afraid not. Those are my jobs, and I can't ask you to do my work. That wouldn't be fair." Immediately, he wished he'd never said that as he saw her bottom lip begin to quiver. He began to think quickly to avoid the rush of tears he could see starting to pool in her blue eyes. He reached over and took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb across the back of it. "You know, I am very good at keeping secrets. I bet if you told me why you needed the money for the village, it might help me find something for you to do. Won't you trust me just a little?"

"Can I whisper it to you," she dared to ask softly, already climbing down from the chair and walking over to stand between his legs.

"If that will make it easier. I just want to help you, love."

She paused for a moment and decided that if she was going to get any help, she'd need to tell the truth and start at the beginning. "George wants a horse for Christmas."

He waited a moment, then another moment more, hoping she would follow her first statement with another. When she didn't, he nodded in understanding and pressed forward. "That's a big thing to want for Christmas. Has he told his mother or Father Christmas about it?"

"No, and I don't think he wants a real one. He says he's not old enough to take care of one all by himself since he's not even eight or tall like me. I think he saw one in a store in town … a black one, I think."

Charles quickly put all the pieces together and his heart began to beat a little faster in his chest and a lump formed in his throat. "And you thought you'd like to earn some money to buy him a little toy horse for a Christmas present?"

She nodded her head and pressed her finger to her lips. "Not so loud. Your voice carries, and I don't want him to hear. But, do you think you can help me now that you know why I need the money?"

He gathered the little girl in his arms and pulled her onto his lap, pretending to give the matter some serious consideration. "I do believe I can," he said after making her wait for a moment or two. "You're very good at drawing, you say?"

"Oh, I'm very good at that, Mr. Carson. I have some colored pencils in Mrs. Hughes's office and some in the nursery, and some special paper in both places, too."

"Very well, I think I will hire you for a very special and very top secret job. Do you think you can keep a secret until Christmas, if I pay you to do a job for me?"

"I promise, and if I break my promise you can have all of my biscuits for the rest of my life."

"My, my, that is a sweet deal," he said, reaching into his pocket and producing a sixpence. "I don't think that will be necessary, though, because I have no doubts that you're going to keep your promise and earn this coin. I'll put it in an envelope and seal it with your name on it and keep it in my desk drawer. When you complete your task, I'll give you the coin. Sound fair?"

"It does, but what do I have to do to earn the money, and then how will I get to the village to buy the horse or what if they're all gone by the time I get there? George said there was only one black one when he was there."

"Ah, I see your dilemma. Well, since I trust you to hold up your end of the bargain, I'll tell you what I'll do just for you, Miss Sybbie. I'm going into the village to buy some silver polish from Bakewell's. While I'm there, I'll go ahead and purchase the horse for you to give to Master George. When you complete your task and show me the results, I'll give you the horse. The sooner you complete it, the earlier you'll get the horse. But, this must remain our little secret."

"Oh, Mr. Carson," she said, tossing her arms around his neck and hugging him as tightly as she could. "I promise to do my very best with the chores you give me. You won't be disappointed!"

"I'm sure I won't. So, what I'd like you to do is …"

Three days later, Sybbie returned to Mr. Carson's pantry with her completed task in hand. He praised her for the attention to detail, her use of colors, and the promptness with which she had finished. And, as promised, he handed her a little bag which contained a gift wrapped horse, so that Master George wouldn't be able to tell what was inside. He promised Sybbie it was the exact black horse she'd wanted and he'd had it wrapped as a bonus.

In exchange, Mr. Carson had received a lovely and very colorful drawing. The task he had set Sybbie was a simple one … to draw a picture of Mrs. Hughes in a pretty setting … one of her own choosing and with no other instructions. What she had given him was a lovely drawing of Mrs. Hughes, in her flower garden at their cottage. Based on the number and color of flowers, it was set in the height of summer, complete with a bright yellow sun in the corner of the page. What he hadn't expected to find in the garden was a drawing of himself and Miss Sybbie, playing with a little black horse in a patch of very green grass.

After sending the lass on her way back upstairs, Charles stared at the picture, his heart bursting with love and pride. On his next trip into the village, he would need to purchase a frame for the drawing. He couldn't wait to see the look on Elsie's face when she opened this one on Christmas morning, and he could tell her all about his top secret employee and the offer he couldn't refuse.

**A/N:** I hope you're still enjoying these little Christmas snippets with our lovely duo and their little sidekick. I love hearing your responses to each chapter and the things Sybbie can get into on a regular basis … and I don't mean the biscuit tin. Tee hee. Huge hugs for all … signed and guest reviewers alike. xoxo


	9. I is for Icicle

**I – is for Icicle**

Mr. Carson couldn't believe his luck as he hung up the receiver on the phone in his pantry. He'd been wondering what to get Elsie for Christmas … one last gift. He'd purchased a few sensible things: a warmer robe, new slippers, a nice pen and ink set for her desk, and even a few products for her baths. This, however, would be the gift that he felt she would enjoy the most, the one that would bring her the most joy.

Based on the conversation he'd just had, though, there were tough decisions to be made and sooner rather than later. He knew Elsie had a meeting with Her Ladyship sometime during the afternoon but he wasn't sure of the hour. It wouldn't be hard to find out and run his errand then, though he wondered if it might be possible to take along a little help. There was only one way to find out.

With permission secured from Mr. Branson to take Miss Sybbie on a little Christmas errand, Charles slipped into the kitchen for a tea tray and some gingerbread to surprise his wife.

"I thought you could use a little break before your meeting upstairs." He placed the tray on the table and gently closed the door behind him, giving them a little bit of privacy from the hustling and bustling of downstairs life.

She swiveled around in her chair and smiled softly at him, her hand rising to her temple and rubbing it gently. "Perfectly timed. I've been battling a headache but I really need to go over these last minute details before heading upstairs in a half hour."

"What's the meeting about, if you don't mind my asking? Maybe you could go home afterwards and have a rest, or catch a quick nap in here, if you'd prefer."

"I don't have time for naps or going home, I'm afraid, Charlie. We're going over the preparations for the tenant farmers party. Her Ladyship mentioned a few changes she wanted to try this year so we're going to discuss those, and then I'll need to come back and work out the feasibility of it all."

He handed her the steaming cup of tea and a biscuit, encouraging her to take a break from her paperwork. "Drink this and at least eat one or two gingerbread biscuits. I'll get you a Beecham's from the cabinet. That should help with the headache, at least."

"Thank you, Charlie." She nibbled on her treat and sipped her tea, noting how the soothing liquid warmed her from head to toe. She gratefully and willingly took the powder, but she was not prepared for what Charles did next.

Standing behind her chair, he took her head gently in his large hands and guided her head back against his stomach, dropping a kiss to her forehead. "Close your eyes, love, and let me see if I can help." For the next several minutes, he quickly and efficiently massaged her temples and shoulders until he could feel the majority of the tension leaving her body. His voice was deep but soft as he broke into the silence. "Maybe that will help you get through the afternoon."

"You're too good to be true, Charlie Carson, and I love you. Thank you for taking care of me." She patted his cheek then kissed him softly on the lips. "Now, I hate to run, but I'm expected upstairs, and I imagine you have things to do this afternoon."

"I have one or two things on my agenda, but I was heading upstairs. I'll walk with you for part of the way." He escorted her to the main library and immediately turned on his heels and dashed up the stairs to the nursery.

"Nanny, is Miss Sybbie ready to leave? We have an important errand to run and we're on a bit of a schedule."

"I'm ready, Mr. Carson, and I'm so excited. Papa told me we were going on an adventure but he didn't tell me where. I hope it's somewhere fun and exciting."

He tightened her scarf around her a little and smiled. "I wouldn't take you on a boring one, little one. Now, we must go to my pantry to get my hat and coat, then we'll be off. But, you must remember that this has to be our little secret. We mustn't tell Mrs. Hughes where we've been today because it's a surprise for her Christmas. Do you think you can keep it between us?"

She nodded her head and clapped her gloved hands together. "A surprise for Mrs. Hughes sounds wonderful. Let's go so I can see what it is … though I promise not to tell."

Before long, the two set off on their errand, with Miss Sybbie filled with excitement and question after question. Once they were well on their way, he decided to provide her with answers.

"Mr. Mason, from the home farm, called me this morning. It would seem that he has two cats, both around six months old that he wants to find homes for immediately. They were the two smallest of the litter born to his barn cat in June, and they're just not thriving being an outdoor cats. Do you understand?"

She looked up at him with sad, almost tearful, eyes. "And they'll die if they stay outside during the cold weather? Why hasn't he brought them into his house before now? They must be terribly cold and sad," she said with a quiver to her voice.

"Don't you fret, lass. He does have them inside but he can't keep them there. That's why he wants to find suitable homes for them, and that's where we come in."

Suddenly, she understood the mission of their trip. She stopped walking and jumped in front of him with wide eyes and practically beaming with anticipation. "Mrs. Hughes is getting a kitten for Christmas! And I get to help you choose which one! Oh Mr. Carson, that's the best Christmas present ever."

"Let's hope she thinks so, too, and yes, I wanted to get your thoughts on which one I should choose. You spend a lot of time with Mrs. Hughes, and I couldn't think of a better qualified person to ask." Charles pushed open the wooden gate that led them up the pathway to Mr. Mason's cottage.

"Ah, I had hoped you'd be able to get away this afternoon, Mr. Carson, and hello Miss Sybbie." Mr. Mason held open the door for them to enter his warm cottage and helped the little girl off with her coat. "They're just in the sitting room. Last I looked, they were curled up in the basket by the fire. Mrs. Barker is coming by tomorrow to get the kitten that you don't choose, today, so they will have both found excellent hopes for Christmas," he announced proudly.

Charles took Sybbie's hand and led her into the sitting room, giving her an encouraging nod when he noticed she'd spotted the sleeping kittens just as Mr. Mason had predicted. "Go play with them for a bit and then we'll decide which one Mrs. Hughes would like the best. Mind you, they still have their claws so you'll want to be extra careful."

"I will, Mr. Carson, I promise." Both men watched as she tiptoed over to the basket and knelt down beside it, using her index finger to gently rub each kitten's head between the ears. The little black kitten was the first to wake, yawning widely and stretching before standing up and arching his back. He cautiously stepped out of the basket and walked over to Sybbie, sniffing her fingers, no doubt in hopes of a treat or morsel of food. "We should have brought them something to eat or a toy," she announced.

"That's our next stop. Once you choose a kitten, we'll need to make sure we have everything necessary to make him or her comfortable. And, I'm sure Mr. Mason has been feeding the kittens very well. They don't look like they're starving, to me."

Sybbie tickled the little black kitten's belly, playing with it as he rolled around on the floor and started to show a little more energy. But, her attention was soon drawn to the other kitten still in the basket. She had pretty blue eyes, little grey tips on her ears, but otherwise, she was solid white … and staring intently at Sybbie and her feline sibling.

As Charles and Mr. Mason discussed the logistics of getting the kitten and making sure it remained a surprise until the last possible minute, Sybbie scooted closer to the basket and began to stroke the back of the lazy kitten.

"There, there, little baby. Are you terribly cold? You look so very pretty with your blue eyes. I have blue eyes, too, and so does Mrs. Hughes." Gently, she leaned over and scooped the kitten into her arms, nothing how chilly the kitten's fur seemed to be. She walked over to the sofa and climbed up, taking a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapping it around herself and her new companion. The little kitten burrowed deeper into Sybbie's arms and began to lightly purr, happy to be warmer than a few moments before.

While the little black kitten ran around the room and attacked various pieces of string or played with his toys, the other was content to be cuddled and snuggled. "Have you made a decision, Miss Sybbie? It's almost time we should be heading back or Mrs. Hughes might suspect we've gone."

"I have a question before we go." Charles nodded his head and encouraged her to continue. "Does Mrs. Barker have any children?" The question caught both men by surprise but Charles was able to quickly answer her question. "Yes, she has two … a boy of ten and a girl of six. Why do you ask?"

"Then, I think she should have the little black kitten because he likes to run around and play. I think Mrs. Hughes would like this one because she looks a little like us and she loves to snuggle, too, just like we do."

"That's a very good observation, though do you think the kitten will be happy at my cottage?"

She gave an enthusiastic nod of her head. "I really do. You always keep your house nice and warm, so she'll never be cold again. There's plenty of food and biscuits at your house, so she won't be hungry. Mrs. Hughes has plenty of warm blankets on the sofa, and you're both very sweet and loving. I think she will be perfect at your house, and when I visit, I can give her lots of cuddles, too."

"Well, then, Mr. Mason, it sounds as if we have our answer. We'll take the white kitten, please."

"She's yours when you're ready, Mr. Carson. I'll keep her safe and a secret until you're ready. Do you have a name chosen?"

"Icicle," Sybbie announced proudly. "That's her name. She's white like snow, and she's a little chilly, and we're getting her at Christmas which is in winter."

"Are you sure we shouldn't name her something else … Snowy, Snowdrop, or something similar? You and Mrs. Hughes could choose a name together, if you'd like."

"No, Icicle. If she stayed in the barn, she'd be frozen and her blue eyes make me think of the lake when it's all frozen over. Please, please let me name her Icicle. If Mrs. Hughes doesn't like it, when we can change it since it's her present after all."

Charles could never deny the child anything, and he'd known there would be no arguing with her on the subject. Most likely, Elsie wouldn't have the heart to change the kitten's name, either.

He knelt down in front of Sybbie and scratched the kitten's head. "Hello, Icicle, welcome to the family. We will come back in two days and take you home for good." He pressed a kiss to Sybbie's forehead. "Thank you, Miss Sybbie, for helping me this afternoon. I think you've made a very wise choice."

She kissed Icicle once, then once more, before handing her over to Mr. Mason so she could return to the house with Mr. Carson. All the way home, they talked about things they'd need to buy for the kitten and when they should show Elsie her surprise.

Three days after their visit to the farm, Mr. Carson and Miss Sybbie picked up Icicle and all of her new things and brought them to the Carson's cottage. For the remainder of the afternoon, Elsie and Sybbie enjoyed a wonderful afternoon welcoming the new addition to the family to her forever home. Watching them from the doorway, Charles couldn't help but wonder if this was what it would have been like to have had children and grandchildren of their own. With a happy heart, he joined his little surrogate family in the sitting room and spent a lovely time with the most adorable Icicle he'd ever seen.

**A/N:** Much love and many thanks for the love you're showing my Chelsie/Sybbie Christmas series. Each message brightens my day just as I hope these snippets are giving you a laugh, warm fuzzies, and happy thoughts. xoxo


	10. J is for Jolly

**J – is for Jolly**

"He had a broad face and a little round belly

That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself …"

Sybbie looked up from the book she'd been reading aloud to Mrs. Hughes, a shocked expression written all over her face. "I can't believe it! We have read this book so many times, and I never knew it, and it was right here in my book the whole time, Mrs. Hughes. And you didn't even tell me! Mr. Carson didn't tell me, either."

Elsie was thoroughly confused. One minute she was being read to by Miss Sybbie and the next she was being accused of something … and she wasn't sure what it was. "What didn't we tell you, lass? It's true, we've both read the book to you and now you're doing a wonderful job of reading it on your own. We're so very proud of you. But, what is it that you think we kept from you?"

"Mr. Carson's secret! I can keep secrets, too, and I wouldn't have told his to anyone. I wonder why everyone else hasn't realized it. It must be so terribly hard for him to pretend to be a butler while doing all of his other work, too." Suddenly, Sybbie gasped and jumped up from the sofa, clapping her hands together and squealing with delight. "If he's St. Nicholas … that makes you Mrs. St. Nicholas since you're his wife!"

Elsie burst into peals of laughter and hugged the girl tightly to her. "Oh, love, Mr. Carson isn't St. Nick. Whatever gave you that idea?"

Sybbie put her hands on her hips and a stern expression crossed her face, one that reminded Elsie of looks she'd seen on the Dowager Countess and Lady Mary's faces in the past. "It says so right here. Look! He's chubby and plump. Mr. Carson is a big man … tall and when I hug him, my arms won't go all the way around. Do yours?"

Elsie coughed to cover her discomfort. "Go on. I'm listening."

"It also says he's a jolly old elf." She said it as if that was all the clarification that Elsie might need to make her see reason. "Maybe he didn't tell you because it's supposed to be a big secret. But, I bet if we asked him, he'd tell us the truth because he loves us and he would never lie."

Elsie mentally calculated all the different ways this could go horribly wrong. And a small part of her wondered just how Sybbie would broach the subject with her husband and his response to her suggestion. As amusing as it might have been to watch Sybbie interrogating Charles, she decided to try once more to convince the little girl otherwise.

"I really don't believe he's the jolly old elf from the book, lass. Mr. Carson is too tall to be an elf, and he doesn't have pointy ears. And while he's older than you and me, he's not as old as St. Nicholas. We go home to our cottage every night so he would have no time to oversee the making of all of those toys for children around the world. Oh, and I can promise you, he most certainly does not have a pipe or a red suit."

"Silly, Mrs. Hughes. He only wears that suit on Christmas Eve, and he probably does something to his ears so you don't see the little tips." She used her index finger and thumb and pinched the top of her own ear, forming it into a point. "See, I can make my ears pointy, if I want. I'm sure Mr. Carson could make his go flat so we wouldn't see." She opened the book back up to the page where she'd left off reading and repeated the words once more … _jolly old elf … and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself. _"Yes, it just has to be him. Mr. Carson makes me laugh all the time, and when he laughs … it's loud!"

"Remember the letter you received from him, though. That certainly wasn't Mr. Carson's handwriting, and we know Mr. Carson is always here on Christmas Eve instead of travelling around the world in a sleigh. Or have you forgotten that we found you sneaking around the Christmas tree downstairs last year when we were closing up the house?"

Elsie saw the moment that Sybbie started to realize the flaw in her logic. She gathered the little girl into her arms and hugged her tightly. "It is lovely to imagine him as St. Nicholas, though, isn't it? I'm sure he'd find it very flattering that you think so highly of him."

"You don't think it would hurt his feelings since I was calling him chubby and plump and an elf, too? The last thing I would want is to make him sad."

"Ah, my sweet girl, you could never do that unless you tried really hard to upset him. He does have a little round belly," she said, tickling the girl's tummy. "Must be all those biscuits you two sneak when you think Mrs. Patmore and I aren't looking." Sybbie giggled and squirmed in Elsie's lap. "And he does have a little dimple on his chin … right here … "she said, tapping the little girl's chin, "though his nose most certainly does not resemble a cherry," she said very seriously. "No, it's much too big for that."

"His eyes twinkle. I've seen them do that when he's talking about you or we're all together at your cottage. Oh, and he has brown eyes but the picture in my book shows him with blue eyes. That's another difference that I didn't notice before. And he doesn't smoke a pipe, and Mr. Carson would never walk around with dirty clothes. He doesn't even get dirty when he's in the garden in the summertime."

Elsie had to agree that she was right about those few things. "Well, I'm glad we had this little chat. I'm sure St. Nicholas will be happy to hear you've not mistaken him for Mr. Carson or forgotten about him. But, I bet Mr. Carson would love to know that you think he is kind enough and giving enough to be St. Nick. I think you should tell him, though maybe don't mention the chubby bit, hmm?"

"You have the best ideas, Mrs. Hughes. Can I leave my book here and finish reading the story to you when I get back?" Elsie nodded and watched the girl dash out of her office, and she could hear, through the thin walls, her husband's muted voice as he welcomed his afternoon visitor.

"To what do I owe this pleasure? I thought you were reading to Mrs. Hughes?"

She walked over to him and raised her arms so he could lift her onto his lap. When she was settled, she answered his question. "I was but then I had a great idea but when Mrs. Hughes explained it, it didn't seem all that great. No, that's not what I mean. It didn't seem … right, I guess is the word I want."

"Oh, and would you care to tell me your idea? I may have a different opinion than Mrs. Hughes."

She turned so she could see his face closely, taking both cheeks in her hands and rubbing her thumb across the dimple on Charles's chin. "I can see how I was right when you're this close to me but Mrs. Hughes has a good point. You couldn't possibly be him."

"You're going to have to be a little more specific. I'm not sure I follow." He allowed her to twist his head to one side and then the other, even inspecting his large ears and tugging on the very tops of them. He couldn't help but laugh a little as she tweaked his nose.

"Nope, not a cherry, most definitely, and no pointy ears, either."

"Goodness, I sound like some sort of weird creature. What book did you say you were reading?"

"A Visit from St. Nicholas … the one you bought me a few years ago. I was showing Mrs. Hughes how much I had grown because I can now read it by myself, though it was fun reading it to her. And, I got to this one part where he appeared, and I thought … well, you'll laugh, but I thought you were him."

Charles was very surprised by her revelation. "You thought I was St. Nicholas? My, that's very flattering, indeed. But, why would I laugh at such a notion?"

"Mrs. Hughes helped me to see that you are much better as Mr. Carson. I love you just the way you are."

"Thank you for that, though what made you think I could possibly be him? You've piqued my curiosity."

"Well, you're tall and you're just the right size. Your eyes twinkle sometimes, when you're very happy or Mrs. Hughes is around. And, most importantly, you make me laugh in spite of myself and you make everyone very happy. You do all sorts of nice things for everyone in the house, and we all love you."

She rested her head on his chest, which gave Carson a few moments to compose his emotions. "Those are very lovely things to say, and I'm very flattered. But, Mrs. Hughes is right. I'm not St. Nicholas, though he does have some wonderful qualities about him. I'm glad I'm not him, though. Would you like to know why?"

She looked up at him and nodded enthusiastically.

"Because he only gets to see you one time a year, and you're asleep. However, I get to see you almost every day and spend lots of fun times with you … jolly times, if you will. So, I would say that I'm the lucky one."

She pressed a kiss to his cheek and hugged him as best as she could. "I think we're all lucky … you, me, and Mrs. Hughes. We get cuddles and giggles and fun all year around." She hopped down from his lap and made her way to the door on her way back to Mrs. Hughes's sitting room. "I'm glad you're not St. Nicholas, too." She patted her tummy and grinned. "And we need to stop eating so many biscuits so we don't get as plump as him, too." And with that, she opened the door and bounced back to Mrs. Hughes and her book, leaving a very flattered though somewhat confused Carson sitting at his desk … looking very much like a jolly old elf.

**A/N:** Admit it! He would make a wonderful Father Christmas … and we saw that in the Text Santa skit from a few years ago. Swoon. Hope you're still enjoying these snippets into the Christmas lives of Charles, Elsie, and Sybbie. Many thanks for the reviews, reblogs, and love you've shown this story.


	11. K is for Knitting

**K –is for Knitting**

The bell for the nursery rang out in the servant's hall just as Elsie was sitting down with a cup of tea, a much needed break from her ledgers in her office. Everyone else in the household was busy with their own duties, including Mr. Carson who was overseeing a wine delivery.

Leaving her steaming cup of tea behind, Elsie walked up the numerous flights of stairs which led to the nursery door. She eased it open, hoping not to disturb the little ones or interrupt a teaching moment for them. She was surprised to find Nanny helping George and Marigold on with their coats while Sybbie sat wrapped in a blanket in a chair.

"Hello, Mrs. Potts. You rang for someone downstairs, but I'm afraid they're all busy, so I thought I might see what I could do to help." Elsie cast a warm smile towards Sybbie who barely returned her smile.

"Ah, Mrs. Hughes. I'd be very grateful if you or one of your maids could sit with Miss Sybbie while I take Master George and Miss Marigold on our outing today. She hasn't been feeling well today, and we're so close to Christmas that I'd hate to run the risk of her falling ill."

Elsie crossed the room and knelt in front of the child, pressing the back of her hand to Sybbie's forehead then smoothing back her hair and cupping her cheek. "Of course, I'll take care of her. You go ahead as planned with the other children, and Miss Sybbie can come downstairs with me. I've a comfortable settee, and we can read books and nap," she said, giving Sybbie a little wink.

They took their time making their way back to the housekeeper's sitting room. Elsie didn't want to rush the little girl when she was feeling unwell, and Sybbie wasn't her bright and chipper self. They decided, on their descent down the stairs, that what was needed most was some warm cocoa and a nice little nap.

"Will you stay with me while I nap in your office?" she asked softly, giving Elsie's hand a little squeeze.

"Of course I will, love. I wouldn't dream of leaving you when you aren't feeling well. That's one reason I suggested we come downstairs. You can take a long, quiet nap, and I can still work on my ledgers or help my maids. Who knows? I might even sneak in a wee nap with you," she teased.

As soon as they entered the sitting room, Sybbie walked right over to the settee and curled up, her eyelids already growing heavy. "Would it be all right if we waited on the cocoa? I'm awfully sleepy, Mrs. Hughes."

Elsie knelt by her side and drew a blanket across the little girl, tucking her in snugly and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I want you to drink some water for me, first, and take a little bit of medicine. It will help you sleep and fight off whatever cold you're taking. You close your eyes, and I'll be right back with it, and maybe a bit of chocolate to help with the taste of the Beecham's powder."

Within a quarter of an hour, Sybbie had taken her medicine without any fuss, thanked Mrs. Hughes for the chocolate and for staying with her, and then promptly fallen asleep. Elsie had pulled her chair to the end of the settee and gently combed her fingers through Sybbie's hair, lulling the child into a peaceful slumber and silently reassuring her that she was still there. Once her breathing had evened out and she was snoring lightly, Elsie moved back to her desk in the hopes of finishing her paperwork. Unfortunately, her mind was no longer on her tasks but rather on the little girl sleeping in her office.

What started out as a short nap turned into three hours. Elsie sent word with one of her maids up to the nursery that Sybbie was napping and not to worry about her. She would bring her back upstairs later in the evening, hopefully before their dinner, but if not, she'd see that the child was fed.

With her mind no longer focused on her ledgers, and with Mr. Carson currently occupied with footmen and the final preparations for dinner, Elsie decided to work on a little project which she'd kept hidden in a corner of her office.

For weeks, in her spare time and mainly when Charles was busy with the upstairs luncheon or dinner, Elsie had been knitting him a lovely blue and grey scarf. She's considered, very briefly, buying him one for Christmas, but had quickly banished the idea. She wanted to present him with something she'd made with her own hands, something she could be proud of and something she knew he would love and use.

As she watched over Sybbie, Elsie quickly set to work on adding row upon row to the long scarf, very pleased with the way it was shaping up.

"What are you working on?" Sybbie's voice was a little scratchy, though from slumber or the cold, Elsie couldn't quite tell.

She handed the child a glass of water and encouraged her to drink it all. "It's a Christmas present for Mr. Carson. I thought I'd knit him a scarf. What do you think?"

Sybbie climbed up onto her knees and inspected the surprise. "He's going to love it. The colors look like your eyes … grey and blue … and it's certainly long enough for him. It's very pretty. How did you learn how to knit?"

"My Mam and Gran taught me, though it's a skill I haven't used in years. But, I thought I'd try my hand at it this year so I could gift Mr. Carson something handmade instead of store bought. I've been working on it for a few weeks, whenever I have the time."

"I don't think Granny knows how to knit. I've seen her doing something with a needle and thread but it's nothing like this. I think she's making pretty pictures on the fabric, but you certainly couldn't wear it."

Elsie nodded in understanding. "That's called embroidery, lass, and yes, it's sort of like creating pictures with needle and thread. Knitting is a bit more complicated, though, since you have to use needles and you don't have any fabric to use as a guide. You just have to make sure you keep count of how many stitches you've added in a row and concentrate on making them as even as possible."

Sybbie watched as Elsie showed her, slowly, how to hold the knitting needles and to make the necessary stitches to add length and width to the scarf. "Wow. You make that look so easy. You said your Mam and Granny taught you how to knit. Do you think you could teach me? I don't have time to learn how to make a scarf but maybe there's something simple I could learn how to do. And if I'm really good at it, I could give it to Mr. Carson as a Christmas present."

Elsie cupped the child's cheek and smiled, her heart warmed by the giving nature of her heart and how much she loved Mr. Carson. "I think I can help you with that." She tapped the side of her nose and then the end of Sybbie's. "I know just what you can do, and we've plenty of time to get it completed before Christmas."

Her eyes, though still a little weak from her cold, were bright and shining with excitement. "What's that? Is it something he'll absolutely love? I really hope so."

"It is, and it's something he can use all year long, not just in the winter months like my scarf. I bet you, it will be his new favorite thing when he's reading."

"A bookmark! You mean you can teach me how to make one for him to use when he's reading stories to me or on his own? That's a great idea."

Elsie handed Sybbie her basket full of colorful yarn. "Why don't you choose a color from what I have in here, and we'll get started on it tomorrow? It's not something I can teach you in an hour, and it's almost time for you to go back upstairs for dinner."

"I can come down first thing in the morning. We can tell Nanny I'm on a top secret mission so she won't ask too many questions. And, if we're keeping it a secret, George and Marigold won't get to ask me questions, either. I don't want them telling Mr. Carson about it."

"I don't think there's any fear of that, love. He doesn't usually visit the nursery, and they aren't frequent visitors downstairs like you. So, I think our little secret is safe. Now, have you chosen your favorite color for his bookmark?"

She concentrated hard on the color choices before her, but it was hard to make a decision. "I like these two so I can't decide." She held up the burgundy and the light grey skeins of yard. "I like this one because Mr. Carson is really good with wine, and I've seen him using that weird machine to pour it from the bottle into the clear jar."

Elsie laughed and couldn't wait to tell Charles about her description of his decanter and the crystal pieces he frequently used. "Yes, he does love red wines and making sure they're treated properly before being consumed. What about this greyish silver one? Why that color out of all the others in the basket?"

"Oh, that's easy. It reminds me of his hair. It's soft and grey but almost silver, too. So, together, the red and the grey make me think of him," she answered with a rather matter of fact tone to her voice.

"Makes perfect sense. So, let's get you back upstairs and see about some hearty soup for you for dinner. Then, it's bedtime after a story, and when I have a chance tomorrow, I'll stop by and get you for our top secret lesson."

For the next week, Elsie and Sybbie spent time together when Mr. Carson was busy to avoid any unwanted interruptions or discovery of their little secret. Elsie found that it wasn't so terribly hard to teach Sybbie how to knit. She was a very enthusiastic pupil and determined to make this little present for Mr. Carson. It was amusing to watch the little girl put so much effort and concentration into each stitch, her little tongue sticking out between her lips and her growls of frustration when her needles slipped or she lost a stitch.

"Remember, don't rush. We've plenty of time to finish this before Christmas. And the more you try to hurry, the more likely you are to make careless mistakes and have to undo some of your work." Elsie pressed a kiss to the top of her head and returned to her ledgers, leaving the child to her mission and not hovering or watching every move.

By the end of the second week, Sybbie had truly managed to learn the fine art of knitting and with Mrs. Hughes's help, she finished off the last few stitches. Together, they added a little tassel on the end, at the insistence of Sybbie, and then she declared it "absolutely perfect."

"You've done very well, and he's going to be so very pleased and excited. Do you know when you want to give him your gift? I can help you wrap it, if you'd like."

"Would you keep it safe down here in your office until closer to Christmas? I don't have anywhere to keep it upstairs, and maybe I can visit soon and give him his present and give you something, too. Would that be okay?"

"Oh darling girl, you don't have to give me anything. Spending time with you and being able to teach you something that my mother and grandmother taught me … that was gift enough. It's not every day I get to pass along something as special as that to someone I love."

"I love you, too, and I promise to teach my daughter how to knit, just like you taught me. And her first project will be a bookmark, just like the one I made for Mr. Carson, only maybe in different colors. She might not like reds and greys. I like blues and purples best."

Elsie felt a lump forming n her throat as she imagined a little girl, who looked an awful lot like the one sitting on her settee, teaching her own child a skill that Elsie had once imparted to her. For her, that was the best Christmas present the child could have bestowed upon her … the gift of her knowledge and memories being passed down to someone else.

It was not a skill all women must learn, but knitting was something Miss Sybbie could take with her to the end of her days. And, she would always associate it with this very special Christmas and the time she spent with her favorite person, her Mrs. Hughes.

**A/N:** Time to "knit" up a scarf full of memories this holiday season! Thanks to everyone for your continued support of these chapters. It's been a challenge to come up with something that will involve Sybbie and the Carson's, and I hope you're still enjoying them. Hugs for all! xoxo


	12. L is for Lights

**L –is for Lights**

Charles Carson sighed wearily as he entered his wife's office at Downton Abbey. Without saying a word, he dropped onto her small settee and rested his head against the back of it and closed his eyes, breathing deeply and heavily through his nose and exhaling through his mouth.

"Gracious! What's brought this on?" She capped her pen and closed her ledger before joining him, sitting so close that they were touching from shoulders to hips to knees to feet.

"I'm feeling every single one of my years tonight, Elsie. That dinner was hard on me for some reason. And Thomas didn't make it any easier. You'd think after all these years in service, he could do the job with his eyes closed. Honestly," he grumbled. "Fortunately, the Dowager Countess didn't see what he did, or if she did, she didn't comment on it, thankfully."

Elsie carded her fingers through his hair and rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm sure if she'd seen, there would have been no stopping her from making a snide remark or two … whatever he did."

"True. I'll speak to him in the morning. Right now, I don't have the energy to do battle. I want to go home with you, get out of these stiff clothes and into pajamas, pour a large glass of wine, and sit in front of our tree before going to bed."

"Mmm, that sounds like a lovely way to end this day. I'm ready to head home whenever you are, love. Want me to get your hat and coat from your pantry?" She took his hand in hers and began gently massaging it, marveling at how strong yet soft his hand seemed to be in hers.

"I still have to lock up the house, check the windows, and switch off the lights. Shouldn't take more than a half hour or so, if I'm quick about it."

They sat perfectly still and silent for a few moments, enjoying the calmness of the atmosphere around them. When Elsie noticed Charles's breathing beginning to even out, she nudged his knee with hers. "Come on, you. We'd better get this house locked up so we can get you home, or you'll be sleeping here tonight and regretting it tomorrow. I'll help you make rounds so we can cut the time in half."

Charles leaned over and gave Elsie a lingering kiss to her lips, one which denied any earlier exhaustion on his part. "I'm not promising I can do more than cuddle with you, tonight, but my heart wants yours to know that it loves you."

She shook her head and smiled. "And my heart says to tell yours that there will be other nights for such declarations, and I'm more than happy with a cuddle, as long as we're in our own home and comfortable." She picked up his hand and brought it to her lips, kissing his knuckles before she stood and helped him to his feet. "We have one last chore to do before we can leave. Let's see to it so I can have my Charlie all to myself."

Without dawdling, they climbed the stairs and began the task of locking up the house. Charles made sure the front doors and windows were all locked and everything had been cleared away while Elsie did the same in the library and upstairs sitting room. Eventually, their rounds led them back to the Great Hall and in front of the massive tree which was twinkling with hundreds of lights.

The Christmas tree in the hallway was massive and decorated from top to bottom. Priceless family ornaments and some newer ones adorned the branches. Ribbons were wrapped around it, adding a festive bit of color to the lush green boughs. But, the prettiest part of the tree was all of the dazzling lights … all white … all glowing warmly … all casting a magical spell around the room. It truly was something of a beautiful sight to behold.

"It's so lovely, Charlie. I have always thought there was something special about the lights on a tree at Christmastime. The way they sparkle and shine warm my heart and make me so happy." She leaned back against her husband's chest as he wrapped his arms around her from behind, taking a liberty that he would never normally dare indulge if anyone were around to see.

"I know which is why we have so many lights on our tree at home. I remember you telling me once about the first time you saw a lighted tree, and that image of a young Elsie Hughes has never left me."

"I'd like to hear the story, too," a little voice said from halfway down the staircase near the tree. Sybbie Branson was dressed in her nightgown and slippers and carefully descending the stairs towards the two heads of the household.

"Miss Sybbie! What are you doing out of bed at this hour? You should be tucked up in your bed and fast asleep," Elsie gently scolded. "What if Mr. Carson and I hadn't been here closing up the house?"

Sybbie's lip began to quiver at the thought of her favorite person being upset with her so she ran straight to Mr. Carson and wrapped her arms around him, as far as she could reach, until he bent down and allowed her to snuggle into his arms.

"Sssssh, lass. She's not angry with you, just concerned that you might have been hurt or gotten into trouble with Nanny for wandering the halls when we aren't around." Charles lifted her into his arms, and Elsie smoothed the hair back from Sybbie's forehead and then pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Mr. Carson is right. I'm not angry, just concerned. You're not ill, are you? Surely, you knew we would be heading home so we wouldn't be downstairs at this time of night. Was there something specific you wanted?"

She nodded her head and reached out until Mrs. Hughes took the girl in her arms, struggling only slightly as her weight shifted from Mr. Carson's arms to her own. "I couldn't sleep, and I kept thinking about the tree and how pretty it was. It's never been really quiet and dark enough to see what the tree really looks like at night, so I wanted to see it tonight."

"You know, love, you could have asked Nanny to bring you down here, or at least on the landing, after everyone went into dinner. I'm sure she wouldn't have minded at all and Miss Marigold and Master George might have enjoyed seeing the tree all lit up, too."

"I don't think so. I don't even think they really like the tree in our room. It's so pretty but this one is massive and has all the best ornaments on it. And there are so many lights! It's like a thousand million stars are blinking at me at once," she said as her eyes filled with wonder as she gazed at the tree in question.

Charles and Elsie shared a surprised and knowing look. When Elsie had told Charles about the first time she'd ever seen a tree with Christmas lights, she had used almost those exact words to describe her impressions and the way it made her feel inside. Charles had always suspected his wife was a strong influence on the little girl, and this was just one more example of it.

"Mrs. Hughes once told me the same thing, Miss Sybbie. And, you know something, I have to agree with both of you. I'd never really thought about it but, with all of the others lights switched off, they do look like little stars."

"Do you know that if you squint, you can make them spread out a little, and it's like looking up at the night sky? I've tried it a few times with the tree in the nursery but there are so many on this tree, it's even easier to imagine. And, it's so dark down here, no silly nightlight to light up part of the room."

Elsie sat down on a nearby chair and shifted Sybbie in her lap, her arms wrapped securely around the child. "Our tree at our cottage isn't very big, not nearly as tall as this one, but we have a lot of lights on ours, too. Sometimes, we sit in the dark and just stare at it because it's so pretty."

"I'd like to see your tree at night sometime. Do you think I could come and visit to see your Christmas tree lights? I could come over tonight since you're still here."

"Not tonight, I'm afraid. Mr. Carson and I are both very tired and need to get some sleep. And it's a bit of a walk from here to our cottage, not to mention no one in the house knows you're out of bed except the two of us. It wouldn't do for Nanny to wake and find you missing."

"But, we could leave her a note, and I could sneak back upstairs and get my doll. We could spend the night at your house, and I could see your tree and come back with you tomorrow."

Elsie looked at Charles with pleading eyes, asking him for a little help in convincing the child to stay without upsetting her. He gave Elsie a subtle wink then knelt down in front of them and lowered his voice to an almost whisper.

"How about we sit here for a bit and enjoy this tree with you tonight, and you can come to the cottage another time when we've had time to get permission from your Papa? That way, if we study this tree tonight, we can compare them fairly when you see our tree. And, there'll be no need for notes or long walks in the dark much past your bedtime."

"Do you promise to talk to Papa about visiting your cottage? Maybe we could stop by the shops in the village and look at their trees, too, one day? We could compare all of the trees we see and then decide which one is the prettiest, though I think your tree will win."

"Each tree has its' own beauty, Miss Sybbie. Everyone adds their own special ornaments, ribbons, lights. No two trees are exactly the same. That's what makes them all so lovely."

She leaned against Mrs. Hughes and stared at the tree for so long that the Carson's thought she might have drifted off to sleep. But, the silence was broken by a very surprising question, one which tugged at the heartstrings of the butler and the housekeeper. "Did you ever sit like this with my Mama? I bet she would have loved the lights on the tree this year."

Elsie felt a lump form in her throat and had to fight back a wave of unexpected tears. "As a matter of fact, I did sit with her, though she was much older than you and didn't fit in my lap," she said with some levity. "She was very much like you in that she found wonder and excitement in everything, especially at this time of year. And, she did love to sit in front of the tree with all the other lights switched off and just drink in the beauty of it all. Christmas was her favorite time of year."

"And I bet you were here favorite person, Mrs. Hughes. And, you too, Mr. Carson," she added quickly.

"Oh, Mrs. Hughes was certainly the favorite with your Mama. But, when you came along, for the longest time, I was the only one in the household who could get you to stop crying. I could walk into a room and you'd stop and hold up your hands for me to hold you. I even spent an entire afternoon walking you around the house while Nanny was busy with other chores."

Sybbie giggled and reached out for his hand. "I love getting into adventures with you, Mr. Carson. And I am excited to see your tree, but you're right. Another day would be best, I think. I'm getting a little sleepy, and I don't think I could walk all the way to your cottage."

Charles scooped her up into his arms and cradled her to him as he and Elsie began to climb the stairs to the nursery. "Another night, then, little lady. We will set a date and you can visit us to admire our tree and all its' lights."

With Sybbie tucked back into bed and after the long walk to their cottage, Charles and Elsie were much too tired for the wine or for anything else. But, despite the long hours and the exhaustion which threatened to claim them, they did curl up together and enjoy the loveliness of the warm glow of their own lit tree.

"Think she'll still declare our small tree as the best once she sees it," Charles asked, his lips brushing against Elsie's temple as he spoke.

"No doubt about it, Charlie. She's not easily blinded by bright lights and shiny objects. She is most certainly her mother's daughter and has her own special light within her. It will serve her well in this sometimes cold and dark world."

"Agreed, and I'm thankful we are allowed to watch her grow and spread her wings. I'll speak to Mr. Branson tomorrow about bringing her by one evening."

"I love you, Charlie. You're so good to her … to us. I'll make sure to put in a good word with Father Christmas so he'll give you something special this year."

Charles drew her closer to him and tilted her head so he could kiss her properly. "No need for that, Mrs. Carson. I have everything I'll ever need right here … and she's the light of my life."

**A/N:** A fluffy little addition, today. Hope you've enjoyed reading it. I apologize for not responding to your previous reviews. Real life (and a virus) got me this week, but I will answer them asap. Much love and hugs to everyone for your continued support and wonderful reviews. xoxo


	13. M is for Merry

**M –is for Merry**

Sybbie Branson first noticed the change as she was pulling on her shoes early one morning in the nursery. Nanny could be a bit harsh sometimes, but only when the children weren't listening or cooperating, but lately she had seemed a bit happier, a little brighter. In fact, she'd been humming a lot lately. It was nice to hear and sometimes they would sing little songs as they went on their outings, enjoying a bit of fresh air in the harsh winter months.

People in the village seemed a little nicer, too. Mr. Bakewell was always friendly but even more so on the days when Sybbie went with Mr. Carson or Mrs. Hughes to the little shop. He frequently gave her a sweet treat, and they would enjoy it on their way home. When she had visited with her Papa to get a few things, the kind man had stopped to ask her about her Christmas tree and to make sure she'd written her letter to Father Christmas. He'd reminded her to be extra good and, as an incentive, he sent her back to the house with a little bag of caramels to share with her cousins in the nursery. To be completely honest, though, she'd rather have shared them with her friends, the butler, housekeeper, and cook.

Granny Violet was in a peculiar mood, and even though Sybbie only saw her occasionally when she would be around for tea time or happened to be in the village, it was clear that she was much more cheerful. She was smiling more and her words seemed lighter, less harsh than at other times. Then again, Sybbie reasoned, she didn't have any children at her house so it might be harder to be happy all the time, and she wasn't so sure when Father Christmas had last visited Granny Violet's house.

Mrs. Patmore had been baking a lot more recently; lots of gingerbreads, shortbreads, biscuits, and even the occasional chocolate cake or apple tart. She and Mr. Carson had been declared the official taste testers which made them both very happy. Mrs. Hughes had even been allowed to sample a few of the sweeties, especially the shortbread and gingerbread. Sybbie giggled when she'd tried one of the lavender biscuits Mrs. Patmore had made for one of the upstairs teas. She and Mrs. Hughes had decided that those were not their favorites and wouldn't be sneaking any of them for their own little tea parties.

As Sybbie watched the servants and her own family interacting with one another, she couldn't help but notice how everyone was smiling more. The chores were the same as they were every other day, with a few exceptions, and there didn't really seem to be a reason for all the laughter and merriment. It was just something that seemed to have taken hold of the house. It wasn't a bad change at all, and she wished everyone could be this happy every single day.

One day, while she was sitting with Mrs. Hughes at the servant's table, she decided to ask the housekeeper if she had noticed anything different.

"Ah, well, if I had to make a guess, I'd say it's the time of year. Everyone is a bit more excited and merry around Christmastime. I think it has something to do with all the secrets and surprises, the smells from the kitchens, the lights and trees … just the whole thing. Don't you feel a little bit different when it's time for Christmas?"

She thought for a moment then nodded her head vigorously. "I suppose I do. I am keeping a secret for you and one for Mr. Carson. Then, there's all the goodies to eat," she said, nibbling on one of the little gingerbread men from Mrs. Patmore, "and we both love the lights on the tree. It feels like everyone around me is happier, and I like it."

Elsie pressed a kiss to the top of the little girl's head. "I like it, too. It makes everything seem merry and bright, even though it can be dark and grey outside. It's a nice change from people always being in a hurry and having few kind words to say to one another."

"I don't even mind it when it's grey outside. That means it's going to snow when it's cold like this. Mr. Carson told me about the different kinds of clouds and sometimes I can't stop looking at them when I go outside. It's fun to look at the clouds and imagine different shapes and animals. Did you do that when you were a little girl?"

"As a matter of fact, I did. My sister and I used to go to our favorite hilltop spot and spend hours watching the clouds. I'd even venture so far as to say that Mr. Carson and your Papa used to do things like that, too." The very idea of Mr. Carson as a young lad made Sybbie and Elsie share a giggle.

"What's all this giggling I hear in the servant's hall?" Carson tried his best to sound stern and serious but their laughter was contagious. "Is there a party that no one informed me about today? You know I would hate to miss out on such a grand occasion."

"We were talking about you," Sybbie blurted out then quickly covered her mouth, her eyes wide as she looked over at her cohort in crime.

"Talking about me? Hmm, well, I hope it was all good things. Surely, it had to be if you were both laughing so loudly I could hear you when I reached the bottom steps."

"We were talking about how everyone seems so merry and cheerful. You're merry and smiling a lot because it's Christmas, aren't you, Mr. Carson? If not, I'm sure we can think of several things to make you smile."

He sat down at the head of the table in his usual chair and stole a gingerbread from the plate on the table. "I can think of several things that make me happy … merry, if you will."

Sybbie leaned her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. "Will you tell us what they are? We can all share, if you want, so you don't have to be the only one. It's only fair that we have to tell if you do."

He thought for a moment and gave the child a nod of his head. "Very well. Something that makes me merry this time of year is planning surprises for Mrs. Hughes and you. I enjoy switching on the Christmas tree lights for the first time and watching you both get so excited. And, biscuits ... and apple tarts … those make my tummy very merry, indeed."

Sybbie giggled and patted her tummy. "Mine, too. And hot chocolate. I am happy when I get to spend time with you and Mrs. Hughes. And then writing a letter to Father Christmas, too, and hoping he gets it in time or going into the village and seeing everyone with smiles." She leaned in closer to the butler and loudly whispered. "Did you know that I even saw Granny Violet smiling yesterday? She came to see Donk when we were upstairs, and she seemed really happy."

"Goodness, me! Maybe she got a bit of good news or an unexpected Christmas present," Elsie said, giving Charles a wink across the table.

"Or, maybe she was just happy to see … YOU," he said, startling Sybbie and causing her to squeal from excitement. "You make every day seem merry and bright, little lady, and for that we're very grateful to you."

"Yes, we are, and we very much enjoy spending our time with you. However, I think it's time to get you back upstairs. I have a few things I need to do before I can go home tonight, and I'd very much like to finish them early."

"Do you have a lot of work to do, or is it paperwork? You do a lot of that, and it all looks very serious."

"It is, which is why I have to concentrate. One mistake, and it could cost us a lot of money, if I'm not careful. So, Mr. Carson can take you back upstairs, but don't forget to stop in the kitchens for the milk and cake slices. Oh, and ask Mrs. Patmore, politely, for a slice for Nanny. She's been very good about letting you visit us downstairs, and it would be nice to do something unexpected for her."

"I think it will make her very merry, and maybe she'll teach us one of the Christmas songs she's been humming."

"Good idea, and then you can teach it to me on our next visit. Now, off you two go so I can get some work done before dinner."

Elsie watched as her husband and the little girl who had stolen their hearts joined hands and continued chatting on their way to the kitchen. She may not have a child of her own, but Sybbie was as loved as any bairn she may have birthed. And, what Charlie had said was true … the little girl made every day merry and bright just with her smile.

**A/N:** Have a MERRY sort of day. I really appreciate you sticking with this little trio (and me) during this holiday fanfic season. Hope you're still enjoying checking in with Charles, Elsie, and Sybbie daily. xoxo


	14. N is for Nutcracker

**N – is for Nutcracker**

Sybbie and her Papa didn't normally use the back entrance into Downton Abbey but today was an exception. Tom had gone into the village to run a few errands and had volunteered to pick up a book of stamps for Mrs. Hughes. She'd used the last of hers sending out Christmas cards to the vendors they used throughout the year for various services. Sybbie had decided to accompany him, looking for any chance to escape the nursery and to spend some time with father.

But, today's errands didn't run as smoothly as he'd anticipated, mainly in part to his energetic daughter and her endless questions. She never failed to make astute observations and questioned everything to one degree or another. He should have known he was in for a treat when they entered the post office and saw Mrs. Wigan behind the counter.

"Mr. Branson and Miss Sybbie. What brings you in here?" The postmistress was also known as the town gossip and the one person in the village Mr. Carson tried to avoid at all costs. The woman set his teeth on edge and the way she spoke to and about him made the butler very uncomfortable unless he was in the company of his wife.

"We're out running errands, and we told Mrs. Hughes we would buy some stamps for her," Sybbie announced proudly. "She sent out very pretty cards to her friends and other people, and I got to help her stuff the envelopes. We ran out of stamps before we could finish, though, so we need more."

"Interesting. I hope I'll get one of her pretty cards. Did you see my name on any of the envelopes?" the nosy woman asked without any reservations.

"No, but I wasn't looking at the names. Mr. Carson and I were racing to see who could finish first so we could have the last chocolate biscuit. I won, but I think he let me win. Doesn't matter, though, because we split it, and it made us both happy."

"Mrs. Wigan, we really only came in for a sheet of stamps. We didn't mean to bother you, did we, Sybbie?" Tom tried to reign in the conversation before his daughter said too much and set the tongues wagging in the town with tales of Mr. Carson and how he spent his free time entertaining the granddaughter of the Earl of Grantham.

"It's no bother. I love hearing sweet tales like this. Mr. Carson is always so formidable and buttoned up. It's lovely to hear that he gets to enjoy a bit of life now and then."

"Oh, we have a lot of fun, and I'm sure he loves spending time with Mrs. Hughes and me. We do lots of things together like reading books, drawing, and loads of other things." Sybbie was about to continue when something unique caught her eye in the corner of the post office. "Mrs. Wigan, what's that?"

The woman turned around and saw the object in question. "Oh, that. It's a silly little contraption someone sent me to see if I might like to sell them in here. It's called a nutcracker, but I don't think I'm ever going to use it or sell it. Most women in the village use a more practical instrument. This is something decidedly less functional and more ornamental." She picked up the brightly painted wooden figure and handed it across to the child.

"It's very pretty. It looks like a toy soldier, sort of like the ones George plays with in the nursery. This one is much nicer, though, and bigger too. I like that he has white hair and black eyebrows and very broad shoulders. Reminds me a little of Mr. Carson when he stands up straight and tall, but he doesn't wear red outfits, just black ones."

It was at that moment that Tom was very grateful that Mr. Carson was nowhere around to hear the conversation and how his daughter equated him with the nutcracker. "Sybbie, darling, we should let Mrs. Wigan get back to her job, and we should be getting back with these stamps. I'm sure Mrs. Hughes is waiting, and if we hurry, you can catch Mr. Carson in his pantry before he gets too busy so you can give him the butterscotch discs we bought."

"Oh, I'd forgotten about that." She held out the nutcracker doll to the postmistress. "Thank you for letting me hold your doll. He's very pretty, and I hope you find a home for him."

The older woman came around the counter and knelt in front of the child, close enough that Sybbie backed up until she was leaning against her Papa's legs. "How would you like to take him home for keeps? I'm sure you and Mr. Carson would have a great deal of fun with it, and, as you say, it does resemble him in a few ways. You could tell him it's a gift from Mrs. Wigan and yourself … one for you two to share."

Sybbie's eyes lit up with the idea of taking back an extra surprise for her beloved Mr. Carson, even if it did come from the lady that made her more than a little nervous. "Thank you, very much, but I don't want to take your only doll. I'm sure Mr. Carson or Mrs. Hughes could buy one from London for us to use."

"I insist! And, maybe when you come back to the village, you can stop in and tell me all about how well it worked."

"I don't get into the village that often so it might be a long time before I can tell you. Would that be okay with you?"

"Take it and enjoy, Miss Sybbie. And, if I don't see you again before Christmas, I hope Father Christmas is really good to you."

She thanked the lady and carefully cradled the doll to her chest. When they were safely outside on the street and heading home, Sybbie looked down at the face of the nutcracker and smiled. "It really does look like Mr. Carson. I wonder if he will show me how to use it?"

"I'm sure he will, though I might leave out the part where you and Mrs. Wigan were discussing how much it looks like him but in different clothes." They shared a good laugh and a long walk back to the house.

As soon as Tom opened the back door, Sybbie darted in and ran straight to Mr. Carson's pantry, barely knocking before swinging the door wide open and beginning to chatter away. Tom ducked into Mrs. Hughes's sitting room to give her the stamps and to warn her about the nutcracker doll from Mrs. Wigan.

"I'm afraid there was no convincing her to keep it. She basically refused to take it back once Sybbie had it, and then it became a little awkward. She told Sybbie to have Mr. Carson show her how to work it and then report back. I'm sure Sybbie thought nothing of it, but even I wanted to roll my eyes at her forwardness. I'll let her keep it but it will be a long while before she goes back to the post office, that's for sure."

"Thank you for the stamps, and I'll be certain to stop in the next time I'm in the village, even if I don't need anything. Sometimes, she needs a good reminder that Mr. Carson is married and is not even remotely interested in having anything at all to do with her. Don't you worry about her. I'm more than a match for her."

"Should I get Sybbie and take her back upstairs? I don't want her bothering Mr. Carson when he has things he probably wants to do."

"They're fine, I'm sure. I took him a sandwich and some tea right before you came in so he was taking a break. If he needs to finish up, I'll bring her in here or walk her back up myself. In fact, I think I'll indulge in a little break and see just what this nutcracker doll is all about."

Standing in the doorway, Elsie watched as Sybbie and Mr. Carson inspected the wooden doll that resembled a toy soldier. They were both fascinated by the little lever at the back which opened and closed the soldier's mouth, presumably where the nut was supposed to go.

"I think we need to get some nuts from Mrs. Patmore so we can test it. I mean, that's the only place the nut can go, and it must crack it if we push the lever hard enough, right?"

"We'll soon find out, I suppose. Sometimes, the only way to learn something is with a little experiment."

"You two stay right there. I'll go into the store cupboard and get a handful of nuts for you. No need to bother Mrs. Patmore since the ones in her kitchen have already been shelled for her baking."

When Elsie returned, Sybbie was sitting on Mr. Carson's lap and they were both enjoying his sandwich. "Looks like I should have made two sandwiches," she teased as she placed a small basket full of nuts on the desk.

"No need. We don't mind sharing," he said with a wink, "and thank you for these. We're going to see how this contraption works or if we need to stick with the tried and true method, right, Miss Sybbie?"

"Right!" She hopped off his lap and came around the desk to stand in front of the doll. "Pick up a nut and place it here, then push down on this and it should crack, Mrs. Hughes. At least, that's how we think it works. It's really the only way it can work."

"Let me do the first one, though, just in case it's tricky," Mr. Carson said, being overly cautious and not wanting the child to get hurt.

"Can I at least push the lever?"

"I don't see why not," he agreed, not completely thinking through all the dangers or potential problems.

Mr. Carson picked up a nut and had Sybbie lift up the little handle at the back. "When I say go, you push down hard on the thing to close his mouth. That should crack the shell, and we'll see how we did. Got it?"

"Got it! I'm ready!"

With Mrs. Hughes standing in the corner of the room watching it all, she could never fully understand what happened next in the sequence of events. Mr. Carson had the nut between his index finger and thumb, gently positioning it between the nutcracker's parted mouth. Miss Sybbie gripped the lever tightly, waiting anxiously for her instructions. And then, it happened …

Mr. Carson gave the word. Sybbie pressed a little too quickly and too hard on the lever. The nut fell out of the nutcrackers mouth at the last minute, meaning Mr. Carson's fingers bore the brunt of the full force of the wooden pieces. Mr. Carson yelped and jumped back, stumbling over his chair and falling backwards and essentially hitting his knee on the corner of his desk. It had been a true comedy of errors, though when it was all said and done, no one was laughing. Sybbie was stunned into silence. Mr. Carson was trying very hard not to shed the tears which had formed in his eyes or verbalize the words that were forming on his lips. And Mrs. Hughes … she was trying to hold it all together.

"Sybbie, let's take the nutcracker to my office and leave Mr. Carson for a bit. I think he needs a few minutes alone to see to his fingers and his knee."

"I'm so very sorry, Mr. Carson. I didn't mean to hurt you. I would never hurt you," she said with tears falling from her eyes as she ran out of the office and into Mrs. Hughes's sitting room.

"Elsie, I never …"

"Ssssh, love, I know and so does she. She's just scared that she hurt you, and you're obviously in pain. I'll go see to her and you put some ice on your fingers. Don't worry. I'll talk to her." After a quick kiss to his lips, then one to his offended thumb and index finger, Elsie left him alone in his sitting room while she went to console the frightened child.

"I didn't mean to hurt him, Mrs. Hughes. Honestly, I didn't. Is he terribly angry at me? I wish I'd never seen that stupid nutcracker doll or brought it back. We should take it back to Mrs. Wigan and tell her it hurt Mr. Carson, and we don't want to see it every again."

Elsie gathered Sybbie into her arms and shushed her softly. "No need for tears or theatrics, love. He'll be fine. It's just like slamming your finger in a door or drawer. He will be fine. I think it just startled both of you. But, perhaps, we shouldn't try to crack nuts with that particular object. You know, we have a nutcracker that isn't nearly as pretty but is so much easier to use. What if you kept the soldier one with your other toys, and we'll use the other one down here if we need to shell some nuts for baking."

"Do you think you could show me how that one works? I would like to apologize to Mr. Carson for hurting him. Maybe if I baked him a walnut cake with apples, it might make him feel better. Please, will you help me?"

"You wait right here and let me talk to Mrs. Patmore. After all, it's her kitchen we'd be using, and we wouldn't want to interrupt her schedule for cooking dinner. And, she may let us borrow some walnuts if we promise to crack more for her later and that will save us some time."

"Tell her it's not for me but for Mr. Carson. Maybe that will convince her that we really need her help."

"I'll see what I can do. You just don't worry one whit about it." Elsie closed the door and leaned against it, shaking her head and smiling at the situation she now found herself in. She felt positive that Mrs. Patmore wouldn't mind helping them whip up a quick cake with some basic ingredients which would, in turn, make Sybbie happy when she presented it to Mr. Carson. And, it would only take about an hour from her day, so it was well worth it to help ease the child's mind and soothe her husbands' nerves and wounded pride.

"All right, we have a deal. She's going to help us with a quick cake for you to give to Mr. Carson and tomorrow, we will crack and shell a few walnuts for her in return for using hers today."

"As long as we don't have to use that … thing," Sybbie said, pointing at the doll on the desk. "I wonder if Mrs. Wigan knew she was giving me a dangerous toy. I think Mr. Carson should tell her we were really hurt by it. She shouldn't be giving those way to little children."

"I'm sure she never expected you or Mr. Carson to be injured, sweetheart. It was a simple accident. I know. I watched the whole thing. Now, let's get to baking that sweet surprise or it'll be too late to enjoy it tonight."

While Mr. Carson was upstairs overseeing the table place settings and writing out the dinner cards for the evening, Elsie and Sybbie whipped up a simple cake. "I think we need some icing for it. It looks really plain," Sybbie said as they turned the cake out of the pan and onto the cutting board.

"We don't, actually. I'll let you in on a little secret. Mr. Carson prefers his walnut apple cakes with just a bit of icing sugar sprinkled over the top. It's sweet enough, and the cake tastes really well with a cup of tea, coffee, or milk."

"Will you let me put the sugar on the top? I would like to be able to tell him I did most of the work myself as a way to say sorry for smashing his fingers."

Elsie nodded and handed Sybbie the sieve and poured a little icing sugar into it, showing her how to tap the side to make the white powder cascade around the cake like snowfall. "Not too much. We don't want to overdo it. There … that's perfect."

"You'll have to carry it for me, but I can manage the plates and forks. He might want to cut a slice and share it now while it's still a little warm."

"I'm sure he will." She handed Sybbie the plates and forks and followed the child to her husband's office.

"Mr. Carson, I'm sorry I hurt you earlier with the nutcracker. But, I baked you an "I'm sorry" cake with walnuts and apples. And I even dusted it myself, though with sugar and not actual dust."

"For me? You didn't have to do that. Look, my fingers are just fine and aside from a little bruise on my knee, I'm good as new. But this cake … it looks absolutely delicious and smells heavenly. Are you sure Mrs. Patmore didn't bake this for you?" he teased, tickling the little girl's tummy.

"I promise. Mrs. Hughes helped me with the ingredients and chopping the apples, but I did the rest. And, we've decided we're not using that nutcracker anymore. It can sit in the toy box upstairs, or we can take it back to Mrs. Wigan. It's not a good thing to use for cracking nuts regardless of what the name says," she declared with a wrinkling of her nose.

"Perhaps, it is better as a toy or decorative piece. I'm sure she didn't realize that we could be accidentally injured, and there was no permanent harm done. And just look, we even have a cake to share, so the nutcracker doll couldn't have been all bad."

"Maybe not. I wonder if Granny Violet would like to have it. It if bites her fingers like it did yours, she'll take it right back to Mrs. Wigan."

"In pieces," Elsie muttered under her breath, just loud enough for only her husband to hear. "She's lucky I'm a forgiving sort of woman at Christmastime."

Charles smiled and took a large bite of his cake, making all kinds of oooh's and mmm's at how delicious it was purely for Sybbie's benefit. "Well, Mrs. Hughes, you know what they say at Christmastime … peace on earth and goodwill towards … Mrs. Wigan."

**A/N:** I couldn't let the Christmas prompts roll by without having Mrs. Wigan appear. Tee hee. Poor Charlie. I do so love to tease him with her. Thanks so much for continuing to read the chapters and review. It makes me so happy to hear your comments!


	15. O is for Ornaments

**O –is for Ornaments**

"Here are the boxes you asked for, Mrs. Hughes. Will there be anything else?" Albert stood tall and straight, just like Mr. Carson had taught him when he'd first been hired at the house. He was a young lad who seemed to enjoy his work, respected his employers, and truly looked up to Mr. Carson as a role model.

"No, Albert. That will be all for now. Later, once I've had a chance to sort through all of these, I'll have you take them upstairs to the tree. The family will be decorating it this evening so we want everything ready."

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes. Let me know when you're ready, and I'll take them upstairs for you. I'm going to go check in with Mr. Carson and see what he wants me to do now."

She smiled sweetly up at him. "Stop by the kitchens first and get a light snack. A growing lad like you expending so much energy will need something on his stomach to do a full day's work before lunchtime."

His cheeks turned a little shade a pink, and he left to do exactly as she'd suggested, knowing Mrs. Patmore was always willing to share an extra bit of toast or a cold slice of ham or chicken if he asked politely.

Elsie started at the monumental task in front of her. She disliked this part of her job almost more than any other part. Box after box, piece after piece … she had to inspect every single object and make certain it was in pristine condition before the boxes were removed from her sitting room to the upstairs hallway. She'd often wondered why the family didn't just look through the boxes as they were unpacking them, discarding broken, damaged, or unwanted items as they went. After all, they would have more of an opinion on which ones were important enough to keep, regardless of their state … whole or broken, chipped or fractured.

She'd just taken the lid off the first box when her husband arrived with a strong cup of tea and two slices of toast with honey. "Thought you could use a little fortification to help you through all this. I know it's your least favorite job of the year." He leaned down to kiss her cheek but she shifted her head quickly and caught his lips with hers for a lovely and unexpected peck on the lips.

"You're wonderful, Charlie. Thank you." She blew the steam away from her tea and gingerly took the first sip, sighing with contentment as she felt the warm liquid slip down her throat and into her belly. "It shouldn't take me too long to go through these. The last few years, the maids have been very good about boxing everything up carefully and your lads have carried them back to the attics with steady hands."

"I'm glad to hear it. I suppose I'll leave you to it, but if you need me, I'll be in my pantry. I've a few letters to write, and I need to check on the state of the silver for the dinner next week." He kissed her forehead and gave her shoulder a squeeze before leaving her with the task ahead.

She was halfway through the first box when a familiar knock sounded on her door. The little girl on the other side slowly opened the door and peeked her head into the room. "Are you terribly busy, Mrs. Hughes?" Without waiting, she walked into the room and knelt down in front of the box at the housekeeper's feet.

"I wouldn't say I was terribly busy, but I do have to get through all of these boxes before too much longer. Was there something you wanted?"

"Oh, can I help you? If I do, then we can spend time together, and you can get your work done faster. Then, maybe we can go outside for a walk, maybe down to the stables to see the cats and horses."

"I don't know about that, but you're more than welcome to stay. I'm sorting through these boxes of ornaments so you can help decorate the tree this evening with your family. Won't that be fun?"

"I suppose, but we only ever get to put one ornament on the tree every year. Papa usually helps me. Aunt Mary helps George, and Aunt Edith helps Marigold. I'd like it if we could really decorate it and make it look special."

Sybbie reached into the box and pulled out an ornament she'd never seen before. It was terribly old by the looks of it, and yet it was still in perfect condition. "Ah, be extra careful with that one, lass. It's one of the oldest decorations we have."

"It's not very pretty," she said, wrinkling her nose as she looked at the faded glass ball. "I mean, I'm sure it was nice at one time, but it's not very shiny now."

Elsie chuckled softly. "Well, no, it wouldn't be. You see, it's so very old, but it doesn't make it any less precious. I'll bet if your Granny Violet knew it still existed, she might get very excited. You see, it was an ornament she purchased when she was on her honeymoon with your great grandfather … so very long ago."

"Wow! And we still keep it? It must be ancient!"

"I wouldn't say ancient, but it's been in the family for a long, long time. That's why we must be very careful when sorting through the boxes. You never know what we might find."

Her interest had been piqued and Sybbie peeked into the box between herself and the housekeeper and carefully removed another ornament. This time, it was a crystal angel but her halo was no longer a bright gold, but more of a tarnished version of the color. "Where did this one come from, Mrs. Hughes? Was it very important like the other one?"

"I believe, if I remember the story correctly, that one was given to Lady Rosamund by her father on her tenth Christmas. I suppose we should pack that one separately and send it to her in London in case she wanted to put it on her own tree." Elsie took the ornament from the child with the intention of doing just that later.

One by one, Elsie and Sybbie sorted through all the ornaments in all the boxes. Sybbie was very intrigued by all the varieties, shapes, and sizes … and stories surrounding each one. Even Elsie surprised herself with how much she'd remembered from years past about the baubles and trinkets which went on the tree annually.

When they reached the last box, Elsie took a deep breath and sighed. It was the one box she dreaded most of all, for it held the most recent additions and with those, the more lovely and yet painful memories.

Sybbie, sensing something wasn't quite right, came around stood in front of Mrs. Hughes, holding out her arms so the housekeeper would slip her onto her lap. When she was settled, she gave her friend a tight hug. "What's wrong? Did something upset you?"

Elsie returned the hug and dropped a kiss to the child's head. "Nothing is wrong, lass. It's just that the ornaments in this particular box are some of the most special. They're not terribly old but they're irreplaceable, as are the memories associated with them."

"Oh, that makes sense then. But, I bet if we went through the box together, and you told me about them, we could find some happy memories in there, too. Would you show them to me if I promise to be extra careful?"

Elsie slipped the child from her lap and then both got onto the floor, one on either side of the box, as Elsie removed the box top. Memories of happier times began to flood Elsie's mind, bringing a smile to her face and a tear to her eyes.

"This one," she said, removing a small ornament shaped like a dog, "was bought by your grandfather, Donk, to remember his beloved dog, Pharaoh. She died long before you were born, but he loved her so very much, and she used to roam the house, especially the kitchens. Mrs. Patmore used to sneak her a bit of food, which is why we would often find her downstairs around meal times."

Sybbie giggled and gently placed the ornament off to the side so it could be added with the others making the journey upstairs. "He sounds like Isis and Tiaa. They love getting treats."

"Hmm, sounds like someone else I know," Elsie teased, tapping the girl on the end of her nose. "Now, this one is very precious. Would you like to know why?" Sybbie sat up on her knees and nodded very enthusiastically. "This one belonged to your grandfather when he was a little boy. I believe, the story goes, that he'd begged and begged for a sled for Christmas. On Christmas morning, he found this in his stocking but the real sled was waiting for him outside."

"Wow! I bet that was exciting. I wonder if I ask for something like that, if I'd get a special ornament, too? I'd love to have a real cat that could live in the nursery with me."

"I don't know about a cat for Christmas. You already have the ones in the stable that keep the horses company. And, how would Tiaa feel about a cat in the house?"

'I don't know, but she's Donk's dog, and this would be my cat, and I wouldn't have to go all the way to the stables to play with it. She would be right here all the time."

"Perhaps, we'd better take a look at another ornament. Why don't you choose one this time?"

She peered into the box for a long minute then retrieved a small white box. "What's in this one, and why it is already inside another box unlike the others?"

Elsie took the box and opened it slowly, knowing what she would find inside and trying to keep her tears at bay. "These were your Mama's favorites. We keep them in here because they hold a special place in our hearts, and your mother always cherished them. She made certain they were on the tree every year."

Sybbie leaned in closer and watched as the baubles were revealed: a small blue ornament with what appeared to be snowflakes painted on it, a little white cat with blue eyes and a red ribbon tied around its neck, and a wooden figurine of Father Christmas, which was incredibly faded and showed its' age.

"These were hers?" Her little voice was so soft, Elsie almost didn't hear the question. She reached in and lightly touched each one of them then looked up at Mrs. Hughes. "They're beautiful."

"They are … just like her and just like you. Your Mama placed them on the tree every single year, somewhere different, and it was my task to locate them. The longer it took me, the more biscuits she'd get, so I had to get really good at finding the hidden gems." Elsie smiled as she wiped away the unbidden tears which were falling down her face. "She was special, your mam, and she used to come and visit me, too, just like you."

"I wish I could have met her. She seems so lovely, and I know I would have loved her with all my heart."

"Oh, sweetheart, she would have adored you, too. And I'm sure she watches over you every single day."

"Just like you and Mr. Carson, and Papa … hey, what's this one? It looks weird."

How quickly the mood shifted from somber to joyful. "This one belongs to your Aunt Mary. I believe she chose it when she was about your age."

Sybbie wrinkled her nose and handed it quickly over to Mrs. Hughes, happy to be rid of the thing. "What's it supposed to be? I don't like it. It's not very pretty."

The little painted doll with the ruffles and feathers was supposed to be a ballerina doll. Once, it was probably quite lovely and, with all the pink lace and feathers, but after so many seasons of being put on a dress then boxed away for another year, it had seen better days. "Can't you tell? It's a little ballerina. Your Aunt Mary once wanted to run away from home to become one, though that was a long time ago, now."

"I'm glad she didn't. If she had to wear something like that, it wouldn't have been pretty at all." Quickly, she moved on to other ornaments in the box, asking questions and receiving answers about each one. When they reached the bottom of the box, Sybbie looked up with a confused expression on her face. "Where's your ornament and Mr. Carson's? Are they in another special box that we haven't gone through yet?"

"No, love. We don't have ornaments to put on the tree upstairs. It's just for the family. Mr. Carson and I have our own tree at the cottage. That's where we will put our special ones, and we try to get a new one every year."

"I don't like it that you don't have one for our tree upstairs. You are family, too. It's not right. I'm going to talk to Papa about that when I see him this afternoon."

"There's no need for that or to get upset. It doesn't bother us that we don't have ornaments on your tree. That's just the way it's always been and always will be. So, don't get upset about it. We are perfectly content to decorate our own tree at home."

"Would it be all right if I gave you an ornament for your tree at home? I think we are family, and I could make you a very special one to put there and you could keep it with yours. Then, when you unbox all your special ones, I'll be there, too."

"I think we would love that very much, and we'll cherish it always."

Sybbie got to her feet and kissed and hugged Mrs. Hughes. "I'd better go start on it now so you can have it when you're ready to decorate. Will tomorrow be okay?"

"Absolutely perfect, lass. Would you like me to walk you back upstairs or can you find your own way?"

"I'm good, thanks. See you tomorrow!" She opened the door and ran straight into Mr. Carson who was coming to check on the progress of the ornament sorting.

"Whoa, there. What's the rush?" he asked, giving Sybbie a wink.

"I've got a lot of work to do. I'm making you and Mrs. Hughes an ornament for your tree at home so I can be a part of your family tree."

Charles's eyebrows rose incredibly high on his forehead but one look at Mrs. Hughes and his questions were stalled … for now. "Right, well, off you go and don't run up the stairs. We don't want a busted lip if you should trip and fall."

"I'll be extra careful. I promise. See you tomorrow," she said before starting to run up the stairs but suddenly remembering the warning she'd just received. Holding onto the rail, she took the steps one by one, step by step … at least until she was out of sight.

"Family tree?"

"Christmas tree. We were talking about all the special memories associated with the ornaments, and I had to explain to her why we didn't have ones on their tree upstairs."

"We're not family," he said very matter-of-factly.

"Right, you are, which is exactly what I tried to explain. She seemed to think it was not fair so I told her about our family tree at home and how they contained our special ornaments like the tree upstairs. She asked if she could make one for our tree, and I didn't see the harm in it."

"Nor can I, really. I wonder what she'll make and if we'll get more than one."

"Guess we'll find out tomorrow. Now, if you'd like to send Albert back in here, these are ready to go upstairs. I'm done enough walking down memory lane for today."

"Does it ever get any easier … thinking about all the people and good times represented in these boxes?"

"If you'd asked me that this morning, I would have said no. But, sharing this with her today … it was nice and she chose the ornament she hated the most."

His lips drew into a fine line and he quirked one eyebrow. "The pink ballerina?"

"The very one! And, I'll have you know, there was no coaxing or coaching from me. Just goes to show that she has good taste in ornaments."

"I'll have you know I paid good money for that ornament, and, to this day, Lady Mary still loves it and puts it on the tree."

"Fortunately, at the back," she mumbled under her breath so her husband couldn't hear.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, worth repeating, love. Now, help me up out of this floor before I'm stuck here forever." She held up her hand which he gratefully accepted.

When she was on her feet again, he pulled her into a tight hug. "I heard that, you know, and for what it's worth, I agree. Looking at it now …" he shuddered, "it's quite the little ornament."

"Just promise me that if you ever take Sybbie into the village to buy one, you won't let her purchase anything like that. In fact, I think I should take her, myself, and we can purchase one for our tree this year and one for her to add to it. What do you think?" She rested her head on his chest and snuggled into his arms.

"I think our family tree is going to be the prettiest one yet, Mrs. Carson."

**A/N:** Many thanks for those of you who are still reading this little story. I'm very grateful to have your love and support for it and your reviews are amazing. Hope you've enjoyed this chapter, too, and are already looking forward to Peppermint!


	16. P is for Peppermint

**P – is for Peppermint**

Mr. Carson entered Bakewell's store and shook off the little bit of snow that had gathered on his shoulders. But, before he could even take the first real steps into the building, he heard his name being shouted and suddenly his legs were being hugged by a little girl.

"Miss Sybbie, Mr. Branson. How nice to see you both here, though I could have run any errand you needed today. No sense in you both getting out in this weather."

"We could say the same for you, Mr. Carson. What brings you here?"

"Two things, actually. Mrs. Carson needed some flour for some shortbread biscuits she's hoping to bake, and I needed to pick up a few candles, just in case the power goes out with the upcoming storm. What brings you here, or were you simply shopping for Christmas?"

"We were going to buy some sweets, but they're all gone. Can you believe it, Mr. Carson? There's none in the bins and Mr. Bakewell isn't even sure when he's going to get more."

He knelt down in front of the child and took both of her hands in his. "I seem to recall us having a good stash of sweets in my desk drawer. And, I know for a fact that Mrs. Hughes bought a few things when she was in town last week. Surely, you two haven't gone through all of that candy?"

"Well, no, we haven't but that's not the point. It's not that long until Christmas and if Mr. Bakewell doesn't have any peppermint sticks, we can't leave one out for Father Christmas and he'll not be happy."

"I've tried to reassure her, Mr. Carson, that the jolly old man won't care one bit about whether or not he gets a peppermint stick. I'm sure he'd be just as happy with a few of Mrs. Patmore's biscuits or even a bar of chocolate."

"But, I was going to leave him some of both so he could choose. If everyone in the village leaves him the same thing, it might make him sick if he eats too much. Or, he could take some back to the North Pole for his wife. I bet nobody ever thinks about sending something home with him for her. Isn't that sad?"

"Miss Sybbie, I can try to find a new supplier for the peppermint and a few other sweets, but I can't make any promises. I'm sure Mr. Carson and Mr. Branson are right. Maybe he'd like a sandwich? I love a good sandwich, myself … crusty bread, cheese, a bit of ham or chicken …"

Sybbie huffed and put her hands on her hips as she sighed loudly, blowing the hair on her forehead back from her face. "I wish Mrs. Hughes was here. She would understand why we need sweets."

"And you can tell her all about it tomorrow. Right now, we need to be heading back so Mr. Carson and Mr. Bakewell can conduct their business and get home before it gets bad outside. Tell them goodbye, please."

Sybbie walked over to the counter and waved at the grocer, not at all feeling very warm towards the man in question. "I hope you have a nice evening," she said, though there was only sadness in her voice. She slowly walked back to Mr. Carson and looked up into his kind face. "I'll see you and Mrs. Hughes tomorrow, won't I?"

"I don't see why not. We only took our half day today so we could get a few things done around the cottage. And cheer up. I'm sure we will find a suitable solution to the sweets crisis long before Christmas. If necessary, you can give him some of our sweeties, and we can replenish our supply afterwards."

"I suppose, but that doesn't help everyone else in the village. Not everybody has a Mr. Carson to help them solve their problems."

His heart was warmed by her faith in him and his ability to make everything right as rain. "True, but they all have someone who loves them very much, which is sometimes the same thing." He tugged on the bottom of her coat and tapped the top of her head through her hat. "Now, you'd best be off and don't give Nanny a hard time, tonight. It's not her fault about the lack of sweets. You and I will sort out something tomorrow. I promise."

"Thanks, Mr. Carson. I'll see you tomorrow. Tell Mrs. Hughes I love her."

"It will be the first thing I tell her when I get home. I promise."

"Thank you for your help, Mr. Carson. I don't know what either of us would do without you and Mrs. Carson." Mr. Branson extended his hand for a handshake then escorted his daughter back home, leaving a flustered Mr. Carson and a curious Mr. Bakewell behind.

"So, Mr. Bakewell, would you care to tell me how it came to be that you have no sweets in the shop and a very dissatisfied customer named Sybbie Branson?" He shared a smile with the man and listened as the grocer explained his predicament.

"Simple as that … a delay in the shipment and more people buying early for Christmas. It couldn't be helped, but I'm due to get in my order tomorrow or the day after. Plenty of time for Christmas shopping, though I wouldn't dare tell her that just in case something went wrong. She was displeased with me enough already."

"She's young and waiting a day can feel like a lifetime. Don't worry. We'll get it sorted tomorrow, and I'll explain everything. Until then, do you think you'd mind doing me a favor to help me convince her that all will be well?"

"Happy to help, Mr. Carson. Just let me ring up the cost of your candles and flour, and you can tell me what you need from me."

The following morning, before any of the family had started to ring the bells for assistance, Sybbie was downstairs in the servant's hall … just in time for breakfast.

"You're up and about very early this morning," Mr. Carson remarked, pulling her onto his lap at the head of the table.

"You'll never believe it. Guess what I got last night while I was sleeping!" Her excitement had captured the attention of everyone at the table, all eyes watching her intently and waiting to hear about her surprise. "It's a letter from Father Christmas! He sent me a little note while I was sleeping last night."

"Oh, my! What on earth does it say? I hope he's doing well and making preparations for his midnight flight, assuming the weather is good, of course."

"Here, you can read it. I can't believe he actually took the time to write me a letter. I know he's terribly busy but he wanted to let me know about the peppermint."

"My goodness. Mr. Carson told me about the dilemma at Mr. Bakewell's yesterday. I couldn't believe it when he told me," Mrs. Hughes replied.

"Father Christmas isn't too worried about it, according to his letter." She waved the paper in front of Mr. Carson's nose until he took it and began reading.

_My dearest Sybbie,_

_I couldn't help but overhear about the lack of sweets in Mr. Bakewell's shop when you visited today. I have it on good authority that things will be replenished soon. And, if by some chance, he doesn't get in a new supply, please don't be cross with him. I'd be more than happy to have a slice of apple pie, an orange, or even a few carrots for my reindeer. We will be pleased with whatever is left out for us, and we thank you in advance._

_Kindest regards and remember to always be good,_

_Father Christmas_

"You are an incredibly lucky lady! I bet it's not every day that someone gets a letter from Father Christmas."

"I can't believe he heard me talking about it in the store. When you see Mr. Bakewell, please tell him I'm not cross with him anymore, and I hope he has a good Christmas."

"I'm sure he'll be relieved to hear it. We should get you back upstairs before breakfast. You can come back later, and we'll choose a few pieces of candy from our drawer to share with Father Christmas. We'll set those aside just in case Mr. Bakewell has trouble restocking. We can give the sweets to Mrs. Hughes for safe keeping."

"I promise to guard them and protect them from being eaten," she teased, reaching over and tickling Sybbie's tummy. "Off you two go, and I'll have Mrs. Patmore send up your breakfast tray in a few minutes."

True to his word, Mr. Bakewell did get in his new shipment of candies and confectionaries, just in time for the holidays. He'd sent word with his delivery boy that his supplies had been replenished in case anyone needed to have some sent up to the house or, by chance, someone wanted to visit the store.

"Elsie, I'm going into the village. I'll be back before it's time for luncheon to be served."

"Why are you going now? Can't it wait?"

"No. I need to visit the store for a bundle of peppermint sticks and a bag of sweets."

"Surely, you aren't serious. You and Miss Sybbie have gone through that entire stash of candies? It's no wonder she loves visiting your office if you ply her with candy all the time."

"Says the woman who holds tea parties and feeds her biscuits! And, for your information, we haven't eaten all those things. I was going into the village to get the peppermint sticks so we could leave them out for her with another little note on Christmas morning."

"What on earth are you cooking up now? She's getting more letters from Father Christmas than I've ever written to the jolly old man."

"He's going to leave her some peppermint sticks from the North Pole. I thought that would be a nice little touch this year, since she was so upset about the shortage."

"I wasn't going to tell you this, but I'm the reason there was the problem in the first place. I placed the large order for the household, not realizing that Mr. Bakewell's supplies were low. I had wanted to get a little something for everyone, but I never imagined the turn of events it created."

"I believe this falls under one of those secrets we take to the grave, Elsie. If you'd seen how upset she was that day at the grocer … breaks my sweet tooth just thinking about it."

"Yes, all right! No need to rub salt into the wound. All's right in the end since she's getting extra sweets from you, some shortbreads from me, and no telling what else will be in her stocking on Christmas morning."

Charlie kissed his wife on the lips then headed to the village. He would wait until Christmas morning to confess that he'd been the reason she was two chocolate bars short in her order. He'd had Bakewell put aside two of the best bars … one for Elsie and one for Sybbie.

When all was said and done, Charles Carson felt he might just owe Mr. Bakewell a basket of baked goods for all the trouble they'd put him through over a few chocolates, candies, and a bundle of peppermints.

**A/N:** Heck at this rate, Sybbie's getting more letters from the jolly old man than I've ever written, too, Elsie! I'm so happy you're still loving these moments with Charles, Elsie, and Sybbie. I worried, when I started this adventure, that they might all sound the same. I trust that's not the case … bites bottom lip with worry. Thanks to everyone for the lovely reviews. I hope you all have peppermint sticks and chocolates in your stockings on Christmas morning. lol


	17. Q is for Quiet

**Q – is for Quiet**

It had been a terribly long and busy day, one where Elsie and Charles barely saw one another and were busy solving one crisis after another. Lunch and dinner had been a rushed affair and there had been no time for a stolen moment or two in between duties. By the end of the day, they were both looking forward to heading to their cottage, sitting together on their sofa, and enjoying the comfortable peace and quiet.

"I'm just going up to make my last sweep through the house, lock up, and then I'll be ready to head home." His voice sounded as weary as she felt, and his smile was most definitely not one of his brighter ones.

"I'll be ready, love. I'm paying the last of the invoices, and then I'll make us a small basket for the morning. I've spoken to Thomas and Miss Baxter about overseeing breakfast in the morning to give us a chance to rest a little. We'll be here before the upstairs breakfast, so no need to worry about any of that," she said, allaying any worries as if she could read his mind.

"You're quite the plotter when you want to be," he teased, his smile finally reaching his warm, hazel eyes.

"We have earned a bit of a lie in tomorrow, though mind you, it won't be a long one. Still, every little bit helps when we get to be our age." She stood from her chair and stretched, her back clicking in a few places and giving her a bit of relief from her aching bones and muscles. She stretched up and kissed his cheek before brushing her thumb across his lips. "The sooner you go, the sooner we can get home."

"I'll be back before you know it," he promised, returning a kiss to her cheek and a warm squeeze to her upper arm.

While Charles was busy upstairs, Elsie went to the kitchen to pack a small basket of food for their breakfast. A few slices of bread, extra just in case Charlie tried to help with the toaster, some fresh fruit which could be easily sliced, and a wedge of cheese. She paused to take a mental stock of what she already had in her small refrigerator at home: eggs, milk, jam, and leftover chicken. Feeling confident that it would be more than enough to get them started, she brought the basket back to her room and waited for Charlie to return.

She finished writing out all the bills, double checked the list for the maids, looked into the laundry to make sure it was nice and tidy, contemplated making herself a cup of tea, turned off the lights in Charlie's sitting room, gathered his hat, coat, and scarf … and still no husband. Her concern over what had detained him was slightly overridden by her mild irritation at being kept waiting for so long when they were both so exhausted. Deciding she'd waited long enough, Elsie began to walk the familiar route through the house in search of her husband.

At this time of night, the house was incredibly quiet. Everyone was safely and warmly tucked into their beds. There were no maids or footmen scurrying around trying to complete tasks before the family arrived in a particular room. The only sound that could be heard echoing through the corridors was that of the various clocks ticking away the time … time which Elsie thought could be better spend in her nightdress in her own home wrapped up in the arms of her husband.

Climbing up the grand staircase to the second floor landing, Elsie paused once or twice to straighten a bow which had gone askew on one of the many strands of garland decorating the rails and bannisters. When she reached the top, she paused for a moment to admire the grand Christmas tree, still lit and adding a warm glow to the entrance hallway. By the time they reached the cottage, it would be too late to switch on their tree lights and enjoy the beauty of it, she realized with a little pang of regret at not having left earlier in the evening.

Passing by all the close doors on the corridors, Elsie imagined what it would be like when she and Charlie finally retired. They'd be able to go to bed at a decent hour, sleep in whenever they wanted, and enjoy a more relaxed pace to life with all that involves. She shook her head to wake herself from her daydream and to refocus on finding Charlie when she noticed that the nursery door was slightly ajar.

Softly, she peeked her head inside the door and was shocked by what she saw. Her beloved Charlie, the man she'd spent a good half hour looking for throughout the incredibly quiet house, was sitting in the plush armchair in the nursery … fast asleep. But, he wasn't alone. Curled up in a blanket in his lap and clutching her favorite doll was Sybbie. Charles held her securely in his left arm, her head nestled sweetly against his chest, and her copy of _A Visit from St. Nick_ loosely held in his right hand, opened to a page halfway through the book.

She tiptoed into the room and stood completely still for several long moments, drinking in the scene before her. She was, most likely, the only person in this entire house that was awake and she felt incredibly blessed to have stumbled upon this cozy, quiet little scene. He must have heard Sybbie and peeked in to check on her, and never being able to refuse her, he offered to read her a story before putting her back to bed. His exhaustion and her drowsy state must have lulled them both to sleep.

Elsie lightly raked her fingers through her husband's hair then Sybbie's, watching as both squirmed a little at her touch and snuggled closer together. She truly hated to disturb the peaceful moment but letting them stay was not an option. Being mindful not to startle either sleeping beauty, she slipped the book from his hand and returned it to Sybbie's table before trying to wake her husband.

"Charlie? Charlie, love? You need to wake up," she whispered quietly so very close to his ear so as not to disturb the child sleeping in his arms.

"Hmmm," he mumbled before slowly opening his eyes. He blinked once or twice before he realized what must have happened. "I'm so sorry, Elsie. I didn't mean to fall asleep. What time is it?"

"Shhh, you'll wake her," she soothed. "And don't worry about the time. It's late, but we'll manage. You need to shift her to her own bed, if you think you can manage."

"If you'll straighten her blankets, I think I can manage." While Elsie worked to straighten the covers and sheets and plumped the pillow, Charles shifted to the edge of the chair and finally worked up the momentum to lift himself and the child to a standing position. With great care, he eased her into her own bed and slipped his arms from around her small frame while Elsie drew the blankets up tightly around her chin, making sure her doll was tucked in as well.

They stood and stared down at the child for a moment, drinking in the sight and marveling at how relaxed and happy she seemed to be even in her slumber. "We should be heading home, love." Elsie patted his back and wrapped her arm around his waist, snuggling into his side. "I'll have to admit, I'm a little jealous that she got your cuddles tonight, and I am missing out."

"I saved my best and warmest cuddles for you, lass. I hadn't planned on stopping on my rounds but I heard her up and moving about in here so I stopped to check on her. She promised she'd go straight to bed if I would read her the story. It was a little chilly so I wrapped her up in the blanket and, as they say, the rest is history."

"No harm done, and I'm sure she'll sleep sweetly for the rest of the night." Elsie bent and placed a loving kiss to the child's forehead, whispered something in Gaelic, then took Charlie's hand and tugged.

"Wait," he asked before leaning over and kissing the top of her head and adjusting the blanket around her once more. "Sleep well, little one."

"Love you," she murmured in her sleep before she and her dolly turned over and nestled deeper into her warm bedding.

The house was so quiet, you could have heard a pin drop on the carpet, but the little girls' words spoken in her sleepy state were louder than anything Charles and Elsie had ever heard. Louder than any church bells, laughing children, chiming clocks, clinking of silverware, popping Champagne corks … to them, it was the sweetest sound in the world. And, as soon as it was said, the house was plunged back into stillness, a quiet atmosphere which is like being enveloped into a warm hug from your favorite person.

"Let's go home, Elsie."

"I won't read you a bedtime story, but I promise a good cuddle when we get there."

He wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her to the door, making sure to shut it softly behind them. "She's growing up too quickly. Before long, she won't want to sit in our laps or have tea parties or draw pictures for us."

She patted his chest above his heart and snuggled into his side as they descended the stairs. "True, but she will always have the memories, and so will we, to revisit on quiet nights, summer nights, Christmas Eve's, and all the days in between. Until then, we enjoy them all while we can."

As they gathered their things for their nightly walk back to the house, Charles watched Elsie and smiled. "I may not be ready to retire, but it won't be long."

"We can discuss that another time, when we're not both utterly exhausted. I will say that I've been feeling that way, too. Let's not focus on that now when we're both so tired. Tomorrow is another day, and I have a feeling a well-rested little girl is going to be full of boundless energy and in your office first thing. You'd better get a good night's sleep, Mr. Carson. Your fan needs you to be bright and bushy eyebrowed tomorrow."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Cheeky Scot!"

"And you adore every bit of me."

He tapped her bottom playfully. "Indeed, I do. If we hurry home, I must just be able to show you."

Later that evening, the Carson's cottage wasn't as quiet at Downton Abbey when an Englishman and a Scotswoman decided they weren't as exhausted as they once thought.

**A/N:** Who wouldn't want to cuddle with a certain butler and have him read us a story? Lol I thank you all for the reviews. Ffnet has been a problem child lately, and it won't let me reply to reviews. As soon as that is fixed, I'll be answering those messages. Many hugs and heartfelt thanks! xoxo


	18. R is for Ribbon

**R – is for Ribbons**

"What are you doing?" Sybbie opened the door to the housekeeper's sitting room and found her wrapping presents.

"I'm bathing a cat," Elsie answered with a serious expression on her face.

"Silly, Mrs. Hughes! You're not bathing a cat. You're wrapping presents," she said with a giggle and crossed the room to stand beside Elsie. "I don't think a cat would like a bath, anyway, especially not when it's this cold outside."

"No, I daresay not. Besides, I wouldn't want to try to bathe a cat. Would you?"

"I'd rather bathe Tiaa. I bet she makes a big mess when she gets in the tub with all the soapy bubbles."

Elsie finished wrapping one present then started on another, thankful that she'd put the presents for the children aside just in case she had an unexpected visitor. "Thankfully, she doesn't get into the tubs inside the house. A wet dog running through the house would make for a lot of work for my maids."

"That wouldn't be very nice, so I'm glad we don't do that." She watched, in awe, as Mrs. Hughes skillfully wrapped another present then tied the ribbon around it with ease and precision. "How did you learn to do that?"

"I've been doing this for years, longer than you've been alive, little girl. It just takes a bit of patience and a lot of practice. One day, you'll be wrapping presents for your children and loved ones and thinking back on this very conversation. I'll just bet money on it."

"Would you teach me how right now? I could help you with the presents you have left to wrap, then you'd be done in no time at all. I bet I'll be really good at it, and you're a good teacher."

Inwardly, Elsie sighed. She had a mountain of presents to wrap for various people in the household, not to mention her own presents to make presentable. She was just about to tell her helper that this might be a project for another day, when an idea began to form in her head. She rummaged around in her basket and pulled out several long pieces of ribbon and handed it to Sybbie.

"Grab a book from the shelf, and you can practice on that while I continue with the presents here. I'll go slowly for the first few so you can follow along. Sometimes, it's easier to learn something new by actually doing it instead of having someone like me trying to explain it."

"What a wonderful idea. I can wrap the book more than once and then, when I've learned how to do it quickly like you, then I can help." Sybbie grabbed her copy of _Alice Through the Looking Glass_ and settled down on the floor awaiting instructions on the art of ribbon tying.

True to her word, Elsie went slowly and guided Sybbie through tying the ribbon around the book, making it look like a present ready to be presented to the receiver. They both caught a fit of the giggles when Sybbie's fingers and the ribbons got all tangled, and Elsie had to help her unwind them.

"How on earth did you manage that, lass? It's like you were trying to tie the ribbon around yourself," she teased as she untangled the plaid ribbon from tiny fingers.

Sybbie doubled over in laughter. "I think it was trying to make me a present for somebody. I didn't mean to tie my fingers together. And, look, the book isn't even wrapped at all." It was at that moment that she truly dissolved into laughter and couldn't stop.

"I think we're done for the day, silly girl. I have some work to do, and you should be upstairs. But, if you like, you can take some of the ribbon upstairs and keep practicing. I'm sure Nanny will know how to tie a bow, so if you get stuck, she can show you."

She reached into the basket and took a handful of ribbons of varying lengths and color. "If you don't need these, I can practice on more books and toys. And, the more I practice, the faster I can come back and help you wrap real presents."

With Sybbie on her way back upstairs, Elsie quickly finished wrapping the presents for the children, making sure that the bows were absolutely perfect and colorful, too. Looking over the stack of gifts in the corner of her room, Elsie decided to save one or two of the smaller, simpler ones for Sybbie to wrap, just in case she came back within the next few days to prove her skills.

The following day, Mrs. Hughes fully expected to see Sybbie back in her sitting room, ready to wrap presents like a professional. What she was not expecting was a summons from the nanny, Mrs. Potts.

"You asked to see me?" Elsie surveyed the nursery with a critical eye, looking for anything her maids may have missed when they were cleaning or something which might require the housekeeper's attention.

"Yes, I did, Mrs. Hughes. I hate to complain, but could you take the ribbons back to your sitting room? I'm afraid Miss Sybbie is driving us all a bit mad."

"Goodness. I wouldn't have thought a bit of cloth would be enough to undo one adult and two extra children. Would you care to explain the problem? Perhaps it could be solved with a little chat with Miss Sybbie instead of taking away the ribbon. She seemed very keen on learning how to properly wrap presents and other things."

"And therein lies the problem. She's wrapping everything! Books, small toys, the odd piece of clothing … those were fine. And, then, she moved on to trying to wrap Master George's shoes, Miss Marigold's doll, and even a few things of mine from my nightstand. What's worse is that when she wraps the things, and we untie them, she gets a bit cross."

"You're telling me that you're upset because she's tying ribbons around everything in the nursery and it's a bother for you to untie them? Forgive me, but I don't quite see the problem. She's not broken anything, is not being disrespectful or disruptive, and is actually staying in the nursery, and yet you're complaining." Elsie had to fight hard to control the urge to roll her eyes.

"I just thought you might be able to help her see that not everything needs a bow, and not everyone wants to untie random bits of string and cloth before using an object."

"And, where is she now?"

"She's out with Mr. Branson. They went into the village but should be back soon."

"Give me the ribbons, and when she comes to talk to me, I'll have a little chat with her. However, I will not be discouraging her from practicing her ribbon tying, only suggesting that she stick to things that belong to her."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. That's very kind of you."

"It's also something you could have suggested to the child in your care, but never-you-mind. I'll do it and with less tears shed on her part, I'm sure." Feeling a bit flustered and like she shouldn't say anything else, Mrs. Hughes left Mrs. Potts in the nursery looking a bit bewildered.

As soon as she returned from the village with her Papa, Sybbie looked all over the nursery for her ribbons, but couldn't find any of them. "I'm sure I left them on my table. Did George or Marigold take them? If they did, that wasn't very nice. I need them for my practice. I have to get it just right, Mrs. Potts."

"Mrs. Hughes stopped by and took the ribbons with her. I'm sure if you go and ask her, she'll tell you why, and if you need to continue to practice, perhaps you can do it under her supervision. That would be more appropriate, and I'm sure she has lots of things you can wrap and tie."

"I can't do that, though. I'm trying to learn how to use the ribbons so I can make a pretty package for her, but she doesn't know that. She taught me how to wrap and use the ribbons but I need to get it just right so I can make her Christmas present as pretty as possible. That's one reason Papa and I went into the village today. I needed to pick out my own special spool in just the right shade of blue. See, isn't it pretty?" She held up a brand new spool of deep blue ribbon. "I chose it with her in mind. Do you think she'll like it?"

Nanny felt a lump forming in her throat for being so aggravated with the girl earlier, so much so that she'd asked Mrs. Hughes to intervene. "It's very pretty and she's going to love it. What are you planning to give her that needs to be wrapped with such sweet care?"

"It's a secret but I think I can trust you not to tell her. Do you promise?" The older woman nodded her head and crossed her heart, promising not to breathe a word to the housekeeper. "Papa took me to sit for a portrait, and we got the photographs back two days ago. He let me choose one to give to Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson. We even picked out a nice frame to put it in. So, since I couldn't buy the photo or the frame myself, I'm wrapping it all by myself with a skill she taught me. Oh, and I also got them each a chocolate bar, since we're always sharing sweet treats."

Now that she knew the whole story, Nanny Potts felt awful for losing her patience with the kind and caring child. "Tell you what, I'll help you this evening, if you'd like. We don't have the other ribbons, but that's my fault. I told Mrs. Hughes to take them with her when she visited the nursery earlier. But, if you'd like, I'll help you wrap your presents and make them really special."

"No, thank you. I'd like to say I did it all by myself, and even if it's a little less than perfect, I'm sure she won't mind. It's the thought that counts. She and Mr. Carson are always reminding me of that."

Over the next week, Sybbie Branson wrapped any and everything she could get her hands on and that the ribbon would fit around tightly. She never asked Mrs. Hughes why she'd taken the ribbons back to her sitting room, assuming she'd needed them for her own presents, and by the time she was ready to get her photograph and the chocolate bars ready, she was doing very well with her new skill.

Tom had made arrangements with the Carson's to visit them during one of the slower times in their daily schedule. He wanted to be there when they opened the photograph and to explain, if necessary, how the idea came about. With her packages held carefully in her arms, Sybbie and her father entered Mr. Carson's pantry.

"I brought you a present," she exclaimed excitedly. "I couldn't wait until Christmas to give it to you, and Papa wanted to be here when you opened it."

"Goodness! This is exciting." Mr. Carson offered Mr. Branson a seat as Elsie took her usual chair across the desk and Sybbie climbed into her lap.

"We have a little something for you at the cottage, but you'll have to wait, I'm afraid. We didn't know we would be exchanging gifts today. I've had to keep it there since someone likes to visit our offices and might have seen it," she said, tickling Sybbie.

"Look at my pretty bow. How'd I do with the ribbons?" Sybbie bit her bottom lip and waited to hear the verdict from Mrs. Hughes.

She pretended to study the wrapped frame from all angles, pulling lightly on the top of the bow and remarking on how straight the lines were across the front and back. "You've been practicing, and it shows. You've done a wonderful job. It's almost too pretty to unwrap."

"Oh, but you have to or you'll never know what's inside. If you don't want to undo it, I'm sure Mr. Carson wouldn't mind."

"I have an idea," he said from his seat across from them. "How about I take one end and Mrs. Hughes takes the other end of the ribbon. You hold the package steady and we'll gently pull it until it unravels? Everyone gets to play a part," he suggested.

"Wonderful, Mr. Carson." Elsie placed Sybbie between them and made sure she had a good hold on the package before they began to slowly unravel the gift. When the ribbon was off, Sybbie helped them unveil the gift inside.

"Look! It's me. I had a photograph taken and Papa and I thought you might like one of me. You can keep it here or at your cottage. Oh, and I have one more thing for you," she said, turning to her father who gave her the wrapped chocolate bars. "You don't have to share with me since I have one of my own."

Elsie and Charles were both left speechless and feeling incredibly happy and blessed at the very thoughtful gift. They each took a turn hugging the child and expressing their heartfelt thanks to her father for the gift as well. "We will take the photograph home and place it on the shelf with our other family photos. Would you mind if I kept this bit of ribbon?" Elsie asked, holding up the one that had been wrapped around the frame.

"I don't mind. Are you going to put it with the others in your basket so we can practice even more?"

"No, lass, this one will stay with the photo and frame. See, I'll wrap it here, along the top and then tie it in a nice bow around the back."

"Why would you do that?" Sybbie and her father were both puzzled by the odd request.

"It's a way to always remember that sometimes we don't have to be related to someone to love them as family. Sometimes, it's as simple as the little ribbon that binds us all together."

And in that pantry, three adults and one child became even closer as a family, not a conventional one, but one of the heart and one that mattered more than anything to the little girl with the blue ribbon.

**A/N:** Another chapter in the books. Another day when ffnet isn't cooperating with answering reviews. I love that you're still enjoying these snippets in the Christmas season. I realize it's not everybody's cuppa but for those of you still with me … massive hugs! To the guest reviewers, you guys are wonderful and I wish I could reply to you personally!


	19. S is for Snow

**S –is for Snow**

Charles poured his second cup of tea and nibbled on a slice of buttered toast as he sat at the small kitchen table at their cottage and looked out of the window. Thick, heavy, grey clouds filled the skies, and there was most definitely a feeling of dampness in the air. Elsie had predicted that there would be snow by the weekend, and she was right. She usually was in most matters, he thought to himself with a smile.

"Started breakfast without me, I see," she teased, her voice still a little hoarse from sleep. She wrapped her arms around his neck from behind and nuzzled her cold nose against his neck. "I reached out for you but you weren't in bed. That was rather disappointing."

He brought her hands to his lips and kissed them before tugging on her arm and encouraging her to sit on his lap. "I couldn't sleep, and I didn't want to wake you, either. I thought I'd let you have a bit of a lie in before we needed to get dressed and head to work."

She carded her fingers through his hair and rested her forehead against his cheek. "I appreciate that, but I would rather spend a quiet morning with you than sleeping it away." Her warm lips found his in a light but lingering kiss to his lips. When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against his. "I'll go make us some breakfast and we can enjoy the morning … or what's left of it."

He followed her into their small kitchen and tried to help with breakfast preparations. "You know you were right about the weather. The clouds look like they're going to drop a large snowfall on us sometime today. I thought, after breakfast, I'd go outside and bring in more firewood and get the fireplaces ready to go for tonight."

"You know, it is always days like this when I wish we were retired and able to do whatever we wanted with our time. If we didn't have to go to work, I'd stay in my nightgown and curl up on our sofa with a good book and a cup of tea with you snuggled against me."

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed several teasing kisses to her neck and ear. "Soon, love, and we do have a full day off coming to us. We can spend it any way you'd like. You have my word on it."

"I know, and we'll discuss our plans for that and the near future later. I'll have breakfast on the table by the time you're done with the firewood. But, if you don't let me go, we'll never get anything accomplished before we have to leave the house." She teased him but really, she didn't mind his loving affections and the ease with which they'd slipped into their happy married life.

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes! Anything you say, Mrs. Hughes. Right away, Mrs. Hughes." He gave her bottom a pat before gathering his hat and coat and going to tend to the firewood.

As they sat and ate breakfast, their banter was light and filled with a wide variety of topics: a few last minute gifts they wanted to purchase, a trip to the village for some groceries for the cottage, work duties, and then the weather.

"It hasn't started snowing yet, but it won't be long, Charlie. Do you think we'd better go to the house earlier than we'd planned so we're not stuck walking during the worst of it?"

"You might be right, but the bigger problem will be walking home, if it's going to be as bad as you expect."

She pulled back the curtains from the large window and pointed up at the clouds. "They're full, and we're going to get a large amount before tomorrow. Trust me. If we go to work today, we won't be walking home tonight … or maybe even tomorrow night."

"Right! That settles it. I'll call the house and ask them to send a car to get us. We'll pack a bag for a few days so we'll have everything we need in case we get stuck at the house."

She turned and placed her hands on his chest and smiled when he wrapped her up in his warm arms. "And, my darling husband, just where do you think we're going to sleep? I hope you aren't suggesting we revert back to our old rooms, sleeping separately in the cold attics. I think I'd rather brave the mountains of snow and walk back here, if that's the case."

His laughter rumbled through his chest and settled in her heart. "I have it on good authority that the housekeeper is rather kind and generous up at the house. I'm sure, if she asked nicely and explained the predicament, our employers would grant us permission to use one of the other rooms. It might not hurt to make similar arrangements for the Bates's since they'll be in a similar predicament."

"You know, I used to dream of being snowed in somewhere with the man I love and who loves me. I just never realized we'd be at work when it happened and that I'd be leaving the comforts of my own home to brave the snow and cold to get there."

"I'm sure next year will be different, love, but as you said … another discussion for a different day." He kissed her cheek then went to make the call to the house while she dressed and packed their bags.

By the time the car arrived to drive them to the house, the roads were nearly impassable. Her Ladyship had asked Miss Baxter to prepare a room for the Carsons for which Elsie was very grateful. She hadn't relished the idea of asking for such an accommodation but was very pleased to know that their needs had been met.

As the day wore on, the snow continued to fall. Sometimes, there would be heavy showers with large white flakes gently floating down to earth. At other times, the snowfall would be so heavy that you could barely see the bicycle shed from the servants' door or much beyond the front door. Throughout the day and well into the night, there was no break in the weather, leaving everything buried under a thick blanket of cold and white.

It was mid-morning when Sybbie, accompanied by George and Marigold, appeared in Elsie's sitting room door. "Can you help us, Mrs. Hughes?"

She looked up to see the bright young faces of the three children of the household … and without their nanny. "What are you three doing down here, and where is your nanny? Does she know you're all running about the house?"

"I told her I was bringing them down to see you. We want to go outside and play in the snow."

Elsie crooked her index finger and beckoned the three children further into her office. "And, would you kindly tell me what that has to do with me? I'm afraid I can't go outside to play, if that's what you're after."

"Well, it would have been nice if you could, and Mr. Carson, too, but if you can't, then could you help us find some old clothes to take with us?"

"I'm still not following you, lass. Tell me exactly what it is you're planning to do and that will make it a lot easier to help."

"We want to go outside and play in the snow. Nanny said it was too cold and we might get sick, but George said we could put on our coats and hats and scarves. We begged her until she finally said we could, but we had to play in front of the house. She could sit in one of the windowsills and watch us without having to get out in the cold herself."

"Fair enough. Go on. I still don't see what this has to do with old clothes, unless you mean some of our older things that you wouldn't mind getting wet and dirty."

"Mrs. Hughes, we need them for our snowman." The timid voice of Marigold surprised them all. She rarely spoke to anyone aside from her mother, cousins, and the nanny.

"Ah, a snowman sounds like a lovely idea. So, you'll be needing a few things to take outside for that. Now, I understand completely." She stood and offered her hands to Sybbie and Marigold. "Master George, please lead the way to the kitchens. We'll see if Mrs. Patmore has a slice of cake for each of you, and while you wait, I'll send up one of the maids to the attics to see about finding a few things for you. I'll have her bring what she finds to the nursery. You're not to go outside or bother nanny again until the maid arrives with the items. Understood?"

Sybbie wrapped her arms around Elsie's legs and gave her a big hug. "I knew you'd have the answers. You always do." Sybbie hopped up on a chair and waited patiently for the promised slice of cake and a glass of milk.

While the children were busy snacking in the kitchen under the supervision of Mrs. Patmore, Elsie climbed the endless staircases to the storage attics with a particular clothing chest in mind. It didn't take her long to find the few articles of clothing and a few odds and ends that she thought the children might enjoy using on their snowman.

On her way back from her scavenger hunt, she ran into Charles who was more than a little puzzled by the bundle she had in her arms. "The short answer is these are for the snowman the children are going to build. The longer answer is they're growing restless being cooped up in the house and nanny doesn't want to go outside. She's going to watch them from the window while they wear themselves out."

"Is that wise? Surely, she should be out there supervising them." His concern for their well-being touched her heart and she knew he had only their best interests in mind.

"Mr. Carson, we were young once, remember. I'm sure you loved to play in the snow as much as I did, and children haven't changed that much since we were little. It will do them some good to get some fresh air, a little chilly, and work off a lot of energy. I'm sure if she didn't think it wise, the nanny wouldn't have agreed."

"Hmm, very well, but she should stay close in case they need her."

"I'm sure they'll be fine." She kissed his cheek quickly then went on her way to the nursery with the bundle of old items.

It was much later in the day as Elsie was making her rounds through the family rooms that she noticed Charles standing at the window looking out over the grounds. Deciding to steal a few minutes alone with her husband, she walked up behind him and wrapped her arm around his waist. Immediately, he lifted his right arm and drew her into his side.

"What are you doing, love?" She looked up into his face but he never returned her gaze.

"Watching them," he said, as he nodded towards the children who were laughing and giggling as they played in the snow. "They're having a grand snowball fight, it seems, and our little Sybbie is besting them all. Though, don't tell anyone that I have a favorite in this game."

"Your secret is safe with me," she whispered, "but only if you don't tell that even a housekeeper has her favorite, too."

"Did you see the snowman they made? He's quite impressive, but there's something about him that I can't quite put my finger on. He looks … not familiar, but not quite at the same time. It must be the clothes he's wearing."

Elsie didn't have the heart to tell him that she snowman in question bore a striking resemblance to her husband. The children had made him as tall as they could, given him a large nose, dressed him with a black scarf, added little bits of coal for buttons and eyes, and two small broken sticks for impressive eyebrows.

"I think we should go downstairs and inspect their handiwork and offer them some hot chocolate if they'll come inside for a bit to warm up."

"Shouldn't that be nanny's job? They'll need hot baths and warm, dry clothes after being out there all this time."

"Come along, Mr. Carson. We'll give her time to run their baths while we entertain the little ones for a bit. It'll be fun, and besides, we can find out more about this familiar snowman who … I might add … happens to be standing in just the very spot where you usually stand when we have visitors."

His mouth opened and closed once or twice as the realization began to dawn on him. "Surely, you don't think that snowman is supposed to be me, do you?"

"Only one way to find out, and I'm sure she'll give you an honest answer if you ask."

"Hmm, wonder if she'll create a snowwoman for me, if I ask nicely and find a lovely bit of tartan to wrap around her pretty little neck?"

She pinched his side and burst into laughter. "I don't think it would take much convincing and from the amount of snow still left and the way those clouds look, we'll be here for at least two more days. Plenty of time for them to build you a perfect snow wife."

He turned and wrapped his arms around her waist and lowered his lips to her ear. "I already have the perfect winter wife … and her feet are ice cold every single night, but by morning, she's nice and toasty warm."

"You're a terrible flirt, Mr. Carson. Come on, let's get our coats and go outside. I'd like to see this Snow Carson up close and personal."

"You sound just as excited as Miss Sybbie whenever she is about to get her way."

"What can I say other than snow brings out the little child in all of us. I'm feeling much lighter and more carefree than I did yesterday when the clouds were looking so ominous."

Elsie winked and tugged on his hand so he would follow her down the staircase. She wouldn't dare tell him that Mrs. Patmore often accused her and the little girl of having Mr. Carson wrapped around their little fingers. That would be their little secret … along with the fact that Sybbie had specifically asked for clothing to make a Snow Carson of her very own and Elsie had willingly obliged.

**A/N:** I know some of you are buried under piles and piles of snow. So, what are you waiting for … go build a Snow Carson! Hope you enjoyed this chapter and thanks so much for the reviews. We are nearing the end of the alphabet and the tale of Charles, Elsie, and Sybbie. See ya tomorrow!


	20. T is from Tinsel

**T – is for Tinsel**

Mr. Carson found her first, in an unused room off of the first floor corridor. He could have sworn he'd looked there before now, but perhaps the little girl had been hiding. After all, most of the household had been looking for her for over an hour, and it was a big house.

"Well, fancy meeting you here," he said in his softest voice. The last thing he wanted to do was to startle the child or make her cry harder than she already was. "We've been looking everywhere for you."

"I didn't want to be found, but I'm glad it was you and not someone else. I suppose you're going to take me downstairs to my family, now." Her little voice cracked and her eyes were too busy studying the carpet to see the compassion in Mr. Carson's sad eyes.

"Actually, I'd like to sit and talk for a bit to find out why you felt the need to run away. That's not like you. We've all been very worried about you, especially your Papa and Mrs. Hughes. We were about to put our coats on and go outside in the freezing cold ice and snow to look for you."

"I didn't mean to make them so upset. I should have gone downstairs first, but I thought you and Mrs. Hughes might take me back upstairs."

He wrapped his arm around the little girl and gave her a hug. "We might have, but we would have listened to your problem, first. I'm offering to do that now, if you'd like to tell me. Maybe I can help you with it. But, we'll never know unless you open up."

She wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand and slumped against Mr. Carson's shoulder. "Aunt Edith is going to ruin our Christmas tree, and nobody seems to care."

It was safe to say that Carson had not been expecting that revelation, and he tried to quickly work out what on earth Lady Edith could do to the tree that would ruin it in the eyes of a child. "Hmm, that's not something I would think your aunt would do. She doesn't seem like the type of person who would do something malicious like that."

Sybbie wrinkled her nose and cocked her head to one side. "I don't know what that word means but if it is close to doing something mean, then that's her! And I tried to tell them that I didn't like her idea one little bit but Aunt Mary, Donk, and Granny had already started listening to Aunt Edith." She sighed heavily and shook her head. "I can still be friends with Marigold, though, even if her mama is ruining our tree."

Carson took her hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Why don't we go look at the tree, and you can show me what she's done to make it less than beautiful in your eyes? You may change your mind once you see whatever it is she's doing to it?"

"I'd rather go downstairs with you and Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore. Your tree down there is pretty and doesn't have that awful stuff all over it."

"Indulge me, please. We can let everyone know you're not outside so Mrs. Hughes doesn't have to go looking for you in the snow," he said, hoping to appeal to her love for the housekeeper. "Then, I promise to sit and listen to you while you tell me about the tree. If I happen to agree with you, we'll talk to your Papa about it and he can talk to your Aunt Edith. I know the very last thing in the world she would want is to ruin the Christmas tree or to make you so upset that you'd run away and hide."

"That sounds fair enough, and I really don't want Mrs. Hughes to catch a cold for Christmas." She tugged on his hand and led the way back down the stairs towards the tree in question.

"Sybbie, darling! We've all been so worried about you," Tom said as he raced up the stairs to hug his daughter tightly. "Why did you run away like that? You had us all so worried."

"I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to worry you, but I was upset and I tried to tell you but nobody was listening." She shrugged her shoulders and worried her bottom lip. "I told Mr. Carson that I'd talk to him and then he could tell you, if he agrees with me."

Tom looked up and locked eyes with Mr. Carson, sending him a heartfelt thanks for finding his daughter and for offering to be a mediator in the situation … a situation which baffled every single adult in the house but which was clear as day to Sybbie Branson. "Very well, if Mr. Carson has agreed, then you talk to him, and I'll wait. I'll go tell the others that you were in the house the entire time."

When her father was out of the room, Sybbie led her champion over to the tree and wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Just look what they've done to the tree. It's awful. Our pretty tree is now a mess."

He began to feel a little bit out of his depth in this situation but had no choice but to forge ahead. "I see all the beautiful ornaments that you and Mrs. Hughes worked so carefully to sort through in the boxes. And, all the lights seem to be burning on the tree, so that can't be the problem. Angels and stars are both represented, though that was more of an issue for the nursery tree, if I remember correctly. And, the tree skirt is the same one we've used for years, bought long before you were born."

She walked over to the tree and pointed to the strands of silver hanging from the branches and encircling the entire tree. "We had the tree looking so pretty and then she came in and added all this stuff. I can't even see some of the ornaments because it gets in the way. I asked them not to put it on there, but nobody would listen to me. Aunt Edith just came in and started wrapping the tree in this stuff. I could have made popcorn and cranberry garland if she'd wanted the tree to be all bundled up."

"I can see why you might be upset," he said honestly. "Change can be hard, sometimes, and compromise isn't easy all the time, either. But, it's the Christmas season, and I think we should be a little understanding when it comes to the tree. Remember when you and Master George had the row over the star and angel? You found a nice compromise and you both are happy about that tree, now. Right?"

She nodded her head and started to protest but he stalled her with a raised hand.

"Same thing applies here, wouldn't you agree? You have ornaments and decorations on the tree that you wanted. Everyone else has been able to add little things here and there. Your Aunt Edith should have the same chance to add her favorite thing as well."

"Your trees downstairs and at your cottage don't have tinsel on them, and they're two of the prettiest trees I've ever seen."

"Oh, sweetheart, that's just because they're what you're accustomed to seeing. They're familiar. What would you say if Mrs. Hughes suddenly decided to buy tinsel for the tree downstairs or for the tree at our cottage? They'd still be the same trees, but with a little bit of added sparkle from the tinsel."

"It's not sparkly. It's just dull and silver." She threw her hands up in frustration. "You're taking their side on it so I guess I'll just have to live with the ugly tree, but I don't have to like it."

Charles suddenly had a very outlandish idea. "I think I can change your mind about this tree and the tinsel. Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do, but I don't think you'll be able to make me like this tree one little bit. Aunt Edith put that stuff … that tinsel … on it and unless we take it down, it's not going to change."

He grinned. "Challenge accepted, Miss Sybbie. I want you to go back to the nursery, and after dinner service is completed, I'll come up and get you. I have a little surprise for you."

She reluctantly climbed the stairs back to her room while Carson went into the library to tell the others what he had in mind for the evening.

True to his word, after dinner service was completed, he returned to the nursery to escort Sybbie back downstairs to the tree. Mrs. Hughes was already there and waiting for them with a tea tray of milk and two chocolate biscuits each.

"I didn't know you'd be here, too, Mrs. Hughes. Are you here to try to convince me that the tinsel isn't ugly, too?"

"I'm merely here at the request of Mr. Carson, and he kindly asked me to bring this little treat for the three of us to share. You'll have to ask him about the rest of it," she added gently.

"If you two ladies will find a seat, I'll show you why we're here this late at night." Elsie and Sybbie settled onto one of two chairs near the tree and waited with piqued interest for Mr. Carson to explain himself.

Suddenly, he switched off all the lights, leaving only the tree illuminated in the great room. Sybbie gasped as the room was plunged into near darkness and the tree was the focus of her attention. Carson joined them in the vacant chair by the tree and sat down in silence.

For a long moment, he simply sat and stared at the tree, drinking in the beauty of it and waiting for either his wife or the little girl on her lap to speak. He was pleased when they both remained silent and eventually turned their attention to the tree, no doubt hoping to spot something that only he could see.

"Miss Sybbie, can you tell me what you see?"

"The Christmas tree and the ornaments," she answered honestly.

"What else do you see?"

"The topper, the angels, Donk's sleigh, that silly ballerina ornament," she said with a giggle, "lots of pretty, shiny balls."

"And you, Mrs. Hughes … what do you see?" He looked over the top of Sybbie's head and gave his wife a subtle wink.

"Hmm, the first thing I notice is the smell of the tree, freshly cut and the boughs which are bending with the weight of all the special trinkets on them. Then, there are all the pretty lights which makes the whole thing glow, sort of like magic."

"Good observations, the both of you. But, do you know one big thing that you both missed? Something which should be so obvious that it practically jumps out of the tree at you like a squirrel after a walnut?"

Sybbie sat up straighter in Mrs. Hughes's lap and began to really inspect the tree. She hopped down and went closer and closer until she was practically touching one of the branches with her nose. "I don't see it, Mr. Carson. I must not be tall enough to see it. Maybe it's something only you or a grown up can see because it's higher up."

He stood and lifted her high into the air, only slightly worried about dropping her or hurting his back. "There, now do you see it? It's right there in front of you … are you sure you don't see it?"

Her excitement was growing by leaps and bounds based on her animated reply to his question. "Oh, please tell me so I can see it, too. If it's something that big and pretty, I'd hate to miss it."

"Close your eyes and give me your hand. Let's see if you can guess." She did as he asked, squeezing her eyes tightly shut and wrinkling her nose in the process. He slowly guided her hand towards the tree, towards a bit of the tinsel which was eye level with her. "There … feel that? Any idea what it might be?"

Her little fingers explored the new texture, trying to envision the tree in her mind so she could place the object. "It feels weird, and it's long," she said, running her fingertips along the strand.

"Open your eyes and see for yourself."

She slowly peeked, opening first one eye and then the other. "It's the tinsel that Aunt Edith put on the tree." Charles gently lowered her to the floor and guided her back to Mrs. Hughes's lap.

"When you looked at the tree, you didn't even notice it was there. Neither did Mrs. Hughes. You saw what you wanted to see … the ornaments, lights, and everything else. The tinsel didn't matter to you because you were focused on something else. But, the fact that it was there didn't make the tree any less pretty or you would have mentioned it immediately. It blended right in with all the other things that make this tree so beautiful."

"I can't believe I didn't even remember it was there. I was too excited to see what you had planned and then Mrs. Hughes was here, too. I suppose I owe Aunt Edith an apology for calling her decoration ugly and for being so mean this afternoon."

"I think that would be a good idea, though I'm sure it can wait until morning. Right now, let's just sit here and enjoy this lovely tree and this milk and biscuits. While we do, you can tell me about all the ornaments on the tree that you like the most. I wasn't there when you and Mrs. Hughes went through the boxes, and I'd love to hear some of the stories."

And there, in the dimly lit room, bathed in the light of the Downton Abbey Christmas tree, Sybbie learned a valuable lesson. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder … even if it involves tinsel on the Christmas tree.

**A/N**: So, are you Team Sybbie or Team Tinsel? Tee hee. I know which one I prefer … coughNOTINSELcough but I have learned to appreciate each tree for its' own beauty. I hope you've enjoyed another snippet into the Christmas season with Charles, Elsie, and Sybbie.


	21. U is for Unwrap

**U – is for Unwrap**

The Carsons were enjoying a lovely day away from the house, all the bells, every single demand, and loving every single minute of it. Their morning had started quite leisurely with a big English breakfast, cooked together and sprinkled with lots of loving kisses and affectionate touches. Charles had shoveled the walkway to make it easier for them to get in and out of the cottage and down to the lane while Elsie had spent her time in the kitchen baking a fresh batch of shortbread.

Another reason for them to be so excited about the day, aside from the sheer luxury of spending uninterrupted time together, was that they were expecting a special visitor to the cottage after lunch. After talking with Mr. Branson, they'd invited Sybbie to the house so that they could share some time with her before the real hustle and bustle of the Christmas season began. And, they'd deemed this the perfect time to give her a few presents, things they'd picked up with her in mind.

Elsie looked into the sitting room at the pretty tree and the brightly wrapped packages beneath it. She sent up a silent prayer that the child would love the gifts, one in particular since Charles had chosen it himself. She was just about to plump the cushions on the sofa when she heard the sounds of laughter and squealing coming from the other side of the front door.

"Mrs. Hughes, hurry! Let me in … hurry," she begged before she erupted in a rather loud and contagious laugh. By the time Elsie made it to the door and opened it, Sybbie stood on the doorstep brushing snow from her face, hair, hat, and coat. "Too late," she giggled. "He got me."

"You got me first, young lady," Charles answered with a broad smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes. "I'll have you know, Mrs. Hughes, that I was mercilessly attacked with a snowball … right to the middle of my back. I never saw it coming … nor did she when I retaliated."

Elsie couldn't help but laugh at the pair as she waved to Mr. Branson who had watched the entire scene from the safety of the car. "Get inside, you two, before you start to turn into little icicles or snow creatures."

"Silly Mrs. Hughes," she said as she stepped inside the door and plopped down on the floor to remove her boots, hat, gloves, scarf, and coat while Charles did the same, though without sitting in the floor.

With her husband and Miss Sybbie getting warm by the fire with hot cocoa and shortbread, Sybbie gave them an account of her morning so far. She'd spent time playing dolls with Marigold until George had come along and asked them to build a blanket fort with him. They'd pretended it was an igloo with nanny being a big polar bear that was out to get them if they weren't careful. Then, it was time for lunch, and while the other children were reading, she was spending the afternoon at the cottage. "I love reading, but it's much more fun when we do it together. Mr. Carson, you always do the best voices."

"Thank you for the compliment. Once the New Year arrives, we'll have to choose a new book to start reading together. Maybe you'll get a nice one for Christmas."

"I didn't ask for one but I did ask for surprises. That would be a lovely surprise. Books are always good gifts."

"You're starting to sound like Mrs. Hughes, little lady. And, speaking of gifts, we have a few things for you. Would you care to see what they are?"

She clapped her hands together and grinned excitedly. "I'd love to, but I don't have your gifts with me. I can wait, if you want me to so it's fair."

"No need to wait, lass. We invited you here so we could give you these today. We wanted you to have them before everything got too busy with parties and Christmas Eve and Christmas Day celebrations."

Elsie bent down by the tree and pulled five packages from beneath the low branches, each one bigger than the next, though none too terribly large. "These are from Mr. Carson and myself."

Sybbie got onto her hands and knees in the floor and looked at each present, commenting on the pretty wrapping and complimenting Elsie on her perfect bows made from ribbon. "Can I open any one I want?"

"You should probably read the tags," Charles instructed. "There just may be an order to it," he suggested with a sly grin.

_I may be small, but I hold a world of imagination. Unwrap me first, please. _

She read the note aloud, twice, and tried to work out the riddle for herself. "I don't know what it could be, but it sounds exciting." She untied the bow and slowly removed the wrapping from the first package. "It's my very own notebook with lots and lots of blank pages."

"And, you can use it to write down or draw anything you can dream up in that bright mind of yours," Charles said proudly. "If you can think it, you can draw it or write about it in there. No limits to your imagination."

She hugged the book to her chest and smiled. "I know just what I'm going to put on the first page, but I won't tell you now. I'll wait until it's finished and show you."

"Deal … now what about the next package." Elsie nudged a small rectangular box in her direction.

_Bright and cheery, dark and dreary … I hold all the colors of the rainbow. Unwrap me second, please._

"Dreary? Doesn't that mean sad or grey?" Charles nodded and she began to peel the packaging away from the second parcel. "A WHOLE NEW SET OF COLORED PENCILS! I can use these in my new notebook! And, I won't have to share these with Marigold or George. They are sometimes a little rough on our pencils and they break. But, these … they're all mine. Thank you," she squealed as she gave them each a hug around the neck.

"Goodness, looks like you're just a wee bit happy about the new pencils," Elsie teased, slightly tickling the girl as she accepted her hug. "What do you think could possibly be in the other presents? Any ideas?"

"I have no idea. The pencils and notebook go together and the others are too small to be books." She gently shook the next package and wrinkled her nose as she tried to work it out for herself.

_Alone, I'm of no use to you, but with my friends, I can brighten your world. I'm the third present to unwrap, please. _

She thought long and hard after she read the note but couldn't come up with a guess. "Suppose there's only one way to find out."

"You should let me open it," Charles teased.

Sybbie gave him her best eye roll and smile. "Nice try, but I think I can manage."

"Well, that's put me in my place," he said with a laugh and a slight shake of his head in Elsie's direction. "She's been hanging around you, love, and it's starting to show."

A slight gasp from Sybbie drew their attention back to the excited child. She'd just opened a set of brand new paint brushes, some with broad points and others with finer tips so she could explore different lines and techniques. "Wow! And they're so soft, too," she said, running the brushes over her face and hands. "Feel, Mrs. Hughes … it feels like my hair when it tickles my neck or back."

"They're very nice, and you should thank Mr. Carson for that gift. There were others in the store but he thought you'd like those the best."

"Oh, I really do. And I love the color on the handle. It's pretty."

"We've very glad you like them. Now, two left."

Unwrap me next. I'm gift number four. Open me so we can start to explore.

"Well, that's confusing. Explore what?"

Elsie tapped on the box and Sybbie began to peel away the wrapping paper to reveal a set of paints to go with her brushes. "Make more sense now?"

"You're tricky, Mrs. Hughes, very tricky."

She reached over and tweaked the girl's nose. "I'll have you know I had help coming up with these tags. I may have written them all but that doesn't mean they were all my creation."

"I'm going to think of some riddles for you, too, Mr. Carson. Just you wait. And I can write them down in my new notebook with my pencils so I don't forget them."

"You just worry about that last present," he said, scooting to the edge of his seat. It was the one he'd been most anxious for her to open, and he couldn't contain his excitement.

_Last but not least, I'm gift number five. Unwrap me, and I promise to keep you steady._

This one was a little larger than the rest, and instead of opening it alone, she asked Mr. Carson to help her, for which Elsie was incredibly grateful. She couldn't think of many things that would make her husband happier than a chance to help Sybbie open this last gift.

As soon as the last bit of paper fell from the gift, she covered her mouth and her eyes grew wide with excitement. "My very own easel. I can't believe it. I've wanted one ever since I saw yours when you were painting in the garden this summer. I didn't think you'd remember, and I forgot to ask Father Christmas for one. But … you didn't forget," she squealed and hugged Mr. Carson so tightly that he fell backwards onto the floor with a hearty laugh.

Elsie wiped a few tears of joy from her eyes as she watched her husband show Miss Sybbie how to properly set up the easel, explain the various paints and how best to use them, and even a small tutorial with the brushes and cleaning them.

"Can we please paint a picture today? I've got all my stuff already here, and I'm sure there's loads of stuff we look at to paint like you did with the flowers."

He shook his head. "I'm afraid we can't today. Your father will be back soon to get you. But, we've already discussed it when him, and, weather permitting, you are invited back to the cottage on Sunday. By then, I'll have us both a canvas, and you'll have some time to think about what you'd like to paint as your first picture."

"I already know what I'm going to paint," she announced proudly.

The couple expected her to say something like flowers, a doll, a dog, or something else of a similar variety. But, Sybbie shook her head and grinned.

"I'm going to paint you and Mrs. Hughes and your pretty Christmas tree."

Thankfully, Sybbie didn't see the bewildered look shared by Charles and Elsie … one which silently asked … what have we started?

That would be a mystery to be unwrapped the following Sunday!

**A/N:** In my opinion, there's nothing quite like watching a little one opening presents and getting so excited over the simple things in life. For me, that's what makes the magic of Christmas. I hope you've enjoyed watching the magic being "unwrapped" by Sybbie in this chapter!


	22. V is for Vixen

**V –is for Vixen**

"Thank heavens that job is completed. I thought I'd never get that done." Charles slumped into the chair just inside Elsie's office and heaved a sigh of relief. "Remind me next year, if we're still working, to get one of the footmen to oversee this task."

"I'll remind you, but I doubt you'll listen. I've been telling you to pass that off to one of them for the last five years, ever since Lady Mary purchased the set. And every year, you sit in your office for hours on end, polishing the things until they gleam and sparkle … and for what? To sit on a mantle, practically unnoticed by everyone. It's just another festive decoration, love."

"Well, I'll know it's there and that it's been polished properly. I'm just thankful we only have to worry about it once a year."

"Fortunately, and now that it's done, you can rest easy. Did you get it placed on the mantle or are you going to do it later, once you've had a minute to calm down and rest?" She couldn't resist the urge to tease him just a little.

"As soon as I finished polishing every single silver reindeer and the sleigh, I took the pieces upstairs and set them in place. I even took the liberty of placing a little garland around it so it would look nice, very festive, if I do say so myself."

She kissed him cheek sweetly. "I'm very impressed, Charlie. Maybe we need to get a silver set for our mantle at home. Wouldn't that be something?"

He shook his head and swatted her bottom playfully. "I prefer our decorations at home to the fancy ones here. Ours remind me of who we truly are and how far we've both come in life. There's something to be said for sprigs of evergreen wrapped around the wooden candleholders with the white candles. And the berries you added for color make the whole thing look fresh and homey. No, I wouldn't want the silver and shine from upstairs in our cottage. I know that sounds harsh, but there it is."

She smiled sweetly at him and cradled his cheek in her hand, brushing her thumb over his lips before sliding her hand around his neck. She drew him into a fierce kiss, one that left them both a little breathless. "I couldn't have said any of that better myself, sweetheart. I love our little love nest with all of its decorations, and it makes me so happy to know you feel the same way."

He stood up from the chair and wrapped his arms around Elsie, holding her close and enjoying the loving moment between them. She tucked her head beneath his chin and gave him a little squeeze. "Mmm, I could stay right here forever," she hummed softly.

"Hold on to that thought, love. We've only a few more hours to go before we can leave. Right now, I need to go back to my pantry and do some work that doesn't involve silver polish, sleighs, and reindeer."

With a quick peck to the lips, she sent him on his way, already slipping into a daydream of how they could spend the rest of their night when they reached their warm love nest.

It was later in the afternoon, when Elsie was nearly finished with her next week's work schedule when a little brown haired girl came bounding into her office, placed her hands on her hips, and firmly declared …

"Mrs. Hughes, we have an emergency!"

Startled by the sudden appearance of Sybbie and her pronouncement, Elsie turned quickly in her swivel chair and quickly assessed the girl for any injuries, or perhaps a broken tea cup or doll. "What sort of an emergency? Does someone need Dr. Clarkson?"

"No, nothing like that. But, it's very important. Would you come upstairs with me so I can show you?"

Thinking that someone had spilled tea or hot cider on the carpet or sofa upstairs, Elsie took Sybbie's hand and let the girl lead her up the stairs and through the entrance hall. "Would you mind telling me where we're going? It might be important to know since it's an emergency."

"We're here," she said, pushing open the door to the drawing room and pulling Elsie inside.

"What were you doing in here this afternoon? Normally, you visit with the family in the library when nanny brings you down."

"Papa and Donk were at the home farm so it was just us girls in the house today. Granny thought it might be nice to play in the drawing room so we came in here instead. It's a good thing, too, or I wouldn't have seen the emergency and thought to come and get you to get it fixed right away."

With a critical eye, Elsie glanced around the room, seeing absolutely nothing out of place or soiled that would need the attention of one of her maids or Charlie's footmen. She looked at every surface, chair, rug … nothing. Her eyes landed on the newly polished sleigh and reindeer and she smiled to herself, making a note to compliment her husband on a job well done. "All right, I give up. I don't see what's wrong, lass. You're going to have to help me a little. You obviously see something I don't."

She pointed up to the mantle and sighed. "Right there! It's all wrong! You've got to fix it before anyone else notices. Please, Mrs. Hughes. The reindeer … they're out of order. Well, Vixen is at least. I think everyone else is where they're supposed to be, except for Comet. That one's all wrong, too."

Elsie stepped closer to the mantle and studied the reindeer, mindful not to touch them in case she left fingerprints on the newly polished pieces. "They all look the same to me. What makes you so certain they're out of order?"

"That's easy. They have ribbons around their necks. That's how to tell the order. At least, I think that's how it's supposed to go." She mumbled something under her breath and ticked off each thing on her list on a corresponding finger on her hand. "Yep, I'm right, and they're wrong. If we can just switch them around, no one will ever know they weren't right in the first place."

"Miss Sybbie, Mr. Carson placed them here, and I can't simply move them about without his knowing about it. I'm sure he wouldn't have intentionally placed them in the wrong order. Maybe he knows something that we don't?"

She placed her hands on her hips and plopped down on the sofa facing the fireplace. "Can't we just call him to come up here instead of going all the way downstairs and then coming back? That's a lot of stairs, Mrs. Hughes, and my legs are only so long."

Through a great show of willpower, Elsie managed to resist the urge to roll her eyes at the dramatic declaration from the little girl she loved so much. "Yes, I suppose that is a lot of stairs for someone so small, though you do have a lot of energy. I'd think running up and down the staircases would be a good way to use some of it since you can't go outside and play, though why I'm giving you ideas is beyond me!" Elsie walked over to the doorway and pressed the button on the wall which would ring the bell down in the servant's hall. She sent up a silent pray that Charles would be the one to answer the call and not one of the others downstairs.

It only took a few minutes for the door to the drawing room to open and for Charles to step in, the confusion on his face very obvious to his wife. "Summoned by my wife and Miss Sybbie. I have to say this was most unexpected. What can I do for you, ladies?"

Sybbie ran over to him and grabbed him by the hand, tugging on it with all her might to get him to hurry along to the mantle. "You have to fix them, quickly, Mr. Carson, before anyone else notices what you've done."

His eyes widened and his eyebrows rose significantly with her urgent declaration. "And, if I might be so bold as to ask, what is it that I've done that needs mending?"

"You've put the reindeer in the wrong order," she replied, as if it was a clear as the sky on a summer day. "If you'll lift me up, I'll show you, but I noticed it when I was in here earlier today. I didn't say anything because I didn't want anybody to get into trouble, especially not you or Mrs. Hughes."

Charles looked to Elsie for help but she was finding it hard to keep a straight face given the circumstances. She gave a slight shrug of her shoulders and a nod that suggested he might want to play along, at least for a bit.

Feeling slightly curious and also defeated, he reached down and picked up the child, holding her high so she could get a better look at the silver sleigh and reindeer on the mantle.

"Yep, I was right. Comet and Vixen have to be switched. Vixen is where you went wrong."

Charles leaned in closer and inspected each reindeer, all eight of them. After having spent hours polishing them, he knew there weren't really any identifying marks on them, nothing but the tiny ribbons around their necks. "Forgive me for asking such a silly question, but how can you tell a Vixen from a Comet from a Dasher or Blitzen?"

"Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen," she repeated, ticking them off one by one on her fingers. "That's how they're listed in my book. But, you've put them in the wrong order: Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Comet, Vixen, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen. Their ribbons are all wrong."

His arms were growing a bit weary from holding her up so he gently eased her to the floor then removed the reindeer from the mantle and placed them on the table. "I still don't understand how you can tell the difference. I polished these myself earlier today, and I didn't see their names written anywhere."

"Oh, it's not the names, it's the ribbons like I said before. Red is for Dasher. Orange is for Dancer. Yellow is for Prancer, GREEN IS VIXEN, BLUE IS COMET, indigo is Cupid, violet is Donner, and white is Blitzen."

Elsie had to cover her mouth to stifle the belly laugh that was threatening to break free. Now that it was explained in such simple terms, she could understand fully what Sybbie was trying to say.

"Do you understand now, Mr. Carson?" Sybbie asked, looking up with hopeful eyes.

"I think I do, though I had no idea Father Christmas organized his sleigh by the colors of the rainbow. Who, on earth, taught you that?"

"You did, ages and ages ago … just this past summer," she said as if it was as obvious as the large nose on his face. "We saw the rainbow and you taught me the little saying to help me remember the colors. You said someone named Isaac Newman … Newsman … New … something or other …"

"Isaac Newton," he supplied with a slight smile curling about his lips.

"Yes, Newton … he is the one who named the rainbow. And since rainbows are super special and magical, Santa must somehow use that same magic to make his reindeer fly. They do fly, don't they?"

"Well, it does say so in your book, so I wouldn't want to argue with that. Not today, at least."

"There you have it. Rainbows are color magic. Father Christmas is flying magic, so his reindeer must go by the same colors."

Charles threw his hands up in defeat. Some days, there was no reasoning with a child … or his wife. "Very well, Miss Sybbie. You have explained yourself well and defended your argument. You've convinced me that I've accidentally placed the reindeer in the incorrect order. So, if you'll be so kind as to help me get them in the correct order, we'll see that it's fixed before anyone else notices my mistake."

Sybbie grinned, very happy to have helped her favorite person and to have been correct about the whole thing. After being reminded not to touch them to avoid fingerprints, Charles used his handkerchief to handle the silver reindeer, arranging them in perfect order until his wife and Sybbie were satisfied.

"Thank you for putting Vixen back in the right spot, Mr. Carson. I feel much better about it all now," she said, giving him a quick hug and then ran to give one to Mrs. Hughes. "I think I'll go upstairs now. It's been a busy day, and I'm a little tired. I think I need a nap."

"Want me to walk you back to the nursery?" Elsie asked, brushing her hand through the little girl's hair lovingly.

"No, I'm okay, but thank you." After being reminded to go straight back to the nursery, Elsie and Charles watched her skip through the room and out of the door, singing softly to herself.

Once she was out of sight, Charles rubbed his forehead and temples and sighed heavily.

"Are you feeling unwell, love?"

"I have a pounding headache, now. Must be the smell of the polish, no tea, and all of this," he said, waving his arms in the direction of the mantle.

"Oh, dear, we can't have that." She took his hand and led him from the drawing room. "We'll go to my sitting room, and I'll give you a Beecham's to help with the headache. And, I wasn't going to tell you this until later, but Mrs. Patmore is making one of her seven layer chocolate cakes. She was planning to send us home with two hearty slices to enjoy as we curl up in front of our tree."

He looped his arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her temple. "That is for not laughing at me during this whole debacle." He pinched her bottom and laughed as she yelped in surprise. "That is for allowing the little vixen to ambush me with those reindeer." He looked up and down the corridor to make certain they were alone before pressing her against the wall and kissing her soundly on the lips. "And that, love, is for fireplaces, chocolate cake, and a mantle with no silver reindeers … only greenery, candles, and a cottage full of love."

She carded her fingers through his hair and lightly scratched the base of his neck, causing him to visibly shiver from her familiar touch. "Just you wait until I get you home, Mr. Carson. I'll make you forget all about rainbows and reindeer, but you can be sure of one thing … there's magic to be made tonight at the Carson cottage."

With a renewed spring in his step, Charles happily followed his wife down the stairs, greatly anticipating the rest of the day ahead of him.

**A/N:** When I first started this series, I was a little concerned about how to work "vixen" into a Charles, Elsie, Sybbie story. And then, this idea came to me … and it was such fun to write. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter as much as I did. It's one of my favorites. I'd love to hear what you think, too, if you'd like to leave a comment or two.


	23. W is for Wreath

**W – is for Wreath**

It was unusual for Charles and Elsie to go several days without seeing Miss Sybbie bouncing though their office doors or peeking out of the nursery when she thought they might be on the landing. They were really starting to miss the energetic little girl and how much laughter she brought into their daily lives, but Elsie had assured Charles time and time again that she was fine. She'd spoken with nanny on several occasions and had been reassured that Sybbie was in fine health and there was no need to worry. Still, it didn't stop Charles from doing just that.

"It's not like her to miss a chance to come down here to see both of us, or even one of us, for that matter. I find it odd that she's been absent for two days. Are you sure we haven't done something to upset her or Mr. Branson?" A horrifying though suddenly occurred to him and he gasped and gripped Elsie's upper arm. "You don't think she's found out about Father Christmas, do you? Oh, Elsie, that would be the worst Christmas ever."

"Calm down, Charlie," she soothed gently. "I'm sure she's just found other ways to occupy her time. And, you have to admit, you've been able to get through those stacks of papers on your desk and catch up on a few things since she's been preoccupied."

Reluctantly, he had to admit that his wife was correct. Yes, he'd answered a few letters, polished a few pieces of the silver that Her Ladyship wanted to use for an upcoming event, ordered the wine for the New Year's Eve celebration, and a whole host of other smaller tasks which he'd been neglecting over the last few weeks. "Yes, all right," he answered gruffly.

"You don't have to get short with me, Mr. Carson. It's perfectly fine to admit that you miss her little face. I know I certainly do, but I also know she's only upstairs if I just cannot resist the urge to check on her. I'm sure she's busy with Miss Marigold and Master George. Nanny was going to have them purge a few toys for the village donation box, and I'm certainly glad I wasn't there for that, though I think of the three of them, Sybbie would give her the least amount of trouble over getting rid of a few toys."

"Well, I might just pop my head in later to make sure everything is in order. It will ease my mind a bit."

Elsie kissed his cheek and patted his arm. "I love you, Charlie! Let me know what you find out when you stop by the nursery."

"Oh, you cheeky woman," he snorted as he shook his head and returned to his office, feeling a little teased but most certainly loved.

For the rest of the day, Charles struggled with whether or not to check in on his favorite little friend. His desire to see that she was well was strong but Elsie's voice in the back of his mind kept reminding him that, just like the adults in the household, little children could get busy and swept up in the holiday happening, too. It was that voice that convinced him to wait one more day.

By lunchtime the following day, even Elsie was beginning to grow concerned. She hadn't wanted to admit it to Charles, but she was starting to really miss the infectious laughter and boundless energy of the bright little light that so often visited them downstairs. Her days somehow seemed duller, less magical, though still just as busy as before. She had already made up her mind to visit the nursery wing before dinner … just to put her mind, and Charlie's at rest.

However, they didn't have to wait quite that long. As soon as lunch was over and everyone had gone back to their duties, Elsie was surprised with a special visitor.

"Mrs. Hughes! I've missed you terribly, but I have a special surprise for you and Mr. Carson. Do you know where he is? I want to give it to you at the same time. That way, you can't get jealous because I gave him something, and he can't get jealous, either. It's only fair."

Elsie opened her arms and received a fierce, warm hug from the little girl. "Oh, lass, we've missed you, too. Have you been terribly busy these last few days?" Sybbie nodded and grinned. "And, did you get your toys sorted for the village donation box like nanny asked?"

"I did, but I kept the ones that I love the most. There are a few things that I don't play with anymore, but I kept my tea set, dolls, and those things. Marigold and George were having a bit of trouble choosing what to give away, though. They had to have a little more help in making the decision."

Elsie kissed the top of her head. "I'm sure the children who are less fortunate than you, three, will enjoy whatever you've given. It's always nice to share, and if you have more than you need, others will most certainly appreciate your gift."

"I hope it will make some girl happy to get a few of my things and will play with them a lot."

Charles heard her voice before he ever saw her and suddenly he was standing in Elsie's doorway wearing a huge grin on his face. "I should have known the little elf would come and see you first," he said with a mock pout. "I suppose I'll just go to my office and sit there being lonely and wishing I had someone to pay me a visit," he teased and started to turn away.

Sybbie ran over to him and wrapped her arms around his leg. "You can't leave. You just got here. I was looking for you. Tell him, Mrs. Hughes. Didn't I just ask where he was and that I needed to see both of you at the same time?"

He leaned down and picked her up, kissing her lightly on her cheek before giving her a little hug. "I feel much better, now. I was starting to think you'd found someone else in the house to visit … like Madge, or Anna, or Thomas."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and rubbed her nose against his. "Never! You and Mrs. Hughes are my best friends, and I've missed you so very much. But, I was busy and had to get my work done before I could see you again. Did you know that sometimes work comes before play?"

Both adults couldn't contain their laugher. "You don't say," Elsie shot back sarcastically. "I'll have to remember that as I'm doing about my daily duties, though I hope it won't keep you from visiting us from time to time."

"I'll always make time for you," she said, giving Elsie a two-eyed wink. "My job was a very important one, though, and I have been working really hard. I made nanny promise not to tell you about it since it's a surprise."

Charles sat down on the settee next to Elsie and listed as Sybbie began to describe the events of the last few days, complete with a list of toys she'd given away, the conflicts with her cousins, and how much she'd missed the sweets and biscuits she was so often given.

"Will you promise me to wait right here while I go get your surprise? I put it in Mrs. Hughes's chair in the servant's hall so you wouldn't see." With promises made and hearts crossed, Sybbie asked them to close their eyes while she darted from the room to retrieve her project. "Hold out your hands and no peeking, Mr. Carson. Don't open your eyes until I say it's okay."

"Mrs. Hughes, you can't peek either!" Charles was more than a little intrigued by what she could have possibly made for them, though he didn't have to wait long.

"You can open your eyes now." She squealed in delight as she watched the expressions on their faces turn from surprise to sheer delight. "They're wreaths for your doors," she announced proudly. "I realized you didn't have one on your doors here or at your cottage, so I made them special for you."

"Miss Sybbie, they're beautiful, and we each get one for our office door. That's such a lovely thing to do. I'll have to get some fishing line and have one of the footmen attach it to my door." Elsie opened her arms to give the kind hearted girl a huge hug. "You'll have to tell me how you made it."

When she'd also given Charles a hug and received similar praise for her craftsmanship and imagination, she told them all about the process. Whether or not they truly wanted the detailed directions, they received step by step instructions, all the way down to cutting out the little circles for the holly berries on the construction paper wreath.

"And you have one for home, too. The glue is still drying on it so it's on my table upstairs. You can get it tomorrow, if you want, and take it home for your door. It might not be a good idea to leave it outside a lot, though, since it will be a mess if it gets wet or it snows."

"We can hang it on the inside of the door to protect it from the weather, and that will allow us to see it first thing each morning and every night before bed. It's a very thoughtful gift, and we are so very grateful."

"Every door should have a wreath on it, especially the outside doors like ours upstairs. But, since I didn't have money to buy you a real one, and I didn't know how to make one out of limbs and greenery from outside, I thought this would work. I hope you don't mind that it's not real." She suddenly began worrying her bottom lip as doubt flooded her mind.

"They're absolutely perfect, and would you like to know why?" Elsie asked as she leaned down to look Sybbie eye to eye. "We can use them every year and always think of you. The wreaths on the doors upstairs will have to be thrown away after New Year's because the branches and berries will begin to dry and wilt. But ours … those will last for many years if we make sure to store them properly. So, I'd say we have the best wreaths and there's not enough money to buy them."

"Really? Even if someone offered you a … a hundred pounds … you'd not sell them?"

"Not even for a thousand pounds," Charles answered, the truth behind his words shining through his eyes which were glistening with unshed tears of thankfulness. "Mrs. Hughes is right. These are gifts that we can cherish and reuse year after year, and we promise to take excellent care of them so they'll last a long time."

"Well, if something happens to them, I know how to make more so it will be okay. But, I'm so happy you like them. Maybe, tomorrow, I can come back and see how you've attached them to your door here and go home with you to see the one at your cottage once you have it on the door."

Elsie winked and tapped Sybbie on the end of her nose. "I'm sure we can make that happen. And, there just may be a little bit of shortbread that needs to be baked and sampled, if you and Mr. Carson are feeling up to the job."

"What do you think, Miss Sybbie? Should we take the job that Mrs. Hughes is offering? I think we'd be really good at the job of shortbread testers."

She thought for a long minute and nodded. "But, only if there's hot chocolate to drink. Being a shortbread taster is thirsty work. I bet if I bring my supplies, I could show you how to make a wreath for your other doors at home, too. We could make one for your back door and your bedroom door, too."

"I think one wreath for the cottage is just fine. We don't want to spend all of our time doing that when we could be baking or reading. Besides, it would use up all of your colored paper, and you might need that for making Valentine's in a few months."

Sybbie's eyes grew wide and she grinned like a Cheshire cat. "I just had a great idea! I could make Valentine's wreaths for all of the doors if I start working on them right after Christmas, and you will get the first two," she promised. "We can decorate the whole house in paper wreaths so they'll last forever." She jumped up and down and clapped her hands together in excitement.

"Who's going to break the news to the family about this project?" Charles asked his wife once Sybbie had gone to the kitchen for a slice of cake.

"Don't look at me, Winston … or should I call you Cupid?"

"One holiday at a time, Elsie … one holiday at a time. Right now, though, I think I've earned a slice of cake, too. When we get home, tonight, we can discuss this Cupid fellow. I hear he's a real romantic at heart."

Elsie looped her arm through his and snuggled into his side. "If you ask nicely, later, I'll tell you everything I know about him. He's quite the kisser," she teased as they entered the kitchen to share a snack with the best wreath maker in the house.

**A/N:** As we approach the ending of this series, I wanted to say a heartfelt thank you to everyone who's taken the time to read the chapters, reviewed, messaged, and offered me kind words of support. I know not everyone enjoys the "sweetness" all the time, but I am grateful that you've paused in your busy lives to take a break with Charles, Elsie, and Sybbie. Next up … Xylophone!


	24. X is for Xylophone

**X – is for Xylophone**

Charles Carson was busy decanting the wine for the evening dinner and didn't hear the light knock on his door. Or, was there even a knock to be heard? He wasn't quite sure since the little girl that opened the door wasn't usually so quiet or shy.

She tiptoed into his office and softly closed the door behind her, not uttering a single word as she leaned against the door and shut eyes before releasing a sigh of relief. She stood there for a long moment, not moving a single muscle. When she opened her eyes, she saw Mr. Carson looking at her, and she put her finger to her lips to silence him.

Now thoroughly distracted from his wine, he stood from his desk and walked over to Sybbie and knelt down in front of her. "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

She quickly reached out and put her hand over his lips to stop him from talking. Then, she leaned over and whispered into his ear. "Please, let me hide in here. I won't be any trouble at all. I won't ask for anything. I won't bother you at all. You'll never even know that I'm here, just please, don't make me leave."

His eyebrows creased, and he tried to think of his next course of action. He decided to play along with her for a bit, at least until he got to the bottom of the situation. "Who are we hiding from?" He tried to lower his voice as much as possible, though it was still a bit louder than he'd intended.

"I'm not hiding from anybody, Mr. Carson. I just need to stay here for the rest of the night. I won't touch a single thing while you're serving dinner, or I can go and sit quietly with Mrs. Hughes. But, whatever you do, please don't send me away. I'm begging you. I won't even get into the sweets drawer and take a peppermint stick."

"I'm not concerned about that. I know you'd never take one without permission. I'm more interested in why the sudden secrecy and the need for a hiding place. You do realize that this is the first place anyone in this house would look for you, don't you?"

"Maybe, but if you're not here and upstairs with dinner, nobody will even think to look for me here. They'll check with Mrs. Hughes, but she will say I'm not in her office. Mrs. Patmore won't see me if I don't go to the kitchen to ask for a sandwich, but maybe you could get one for me so I don't starve while you're gone. It's been a long time since lunch, and I don't think I need cake for my dinner … though a slice for dessert would be good … and some milk."

"You're getting off topic, lass. Let's start at the beginning, and then I can decide if I'm able to help you. If not, we will try to find Mrs. Hughes and see what she has to say."

"That sounds fair, but could you use your quieter voice? If they hear you talking with your door closed, they might find out I'm in here before we have a plan to hide me."

"They might also think I'm talking on the telephone to a supplier in London about a wine delivery. Most people don't enter my office without knocking … only you and Mrs. Hughes are bold enough to do that and get away with it," he teased, tickling her tummy. "So, why the secrecy and need for a hiding spot?"

"Marigold got a package today from someone in the village."

"Yes, I know. I accepted it at the back door and had Andrew take it upstairs to the nursery. Nanny was supposed to give it to her and make a note for Lady Edith."

"It was from Mrs. Drewe in the village, and it was a Christmas gift from her and her husband. I don't know how Marigold knows them but that doesn't matter, I suppose. It was nice of them to send a present at Christmas to a child they don't really know."

Charles didn't elaborate on Sybbie's assumptions and made a mental note to speak to Lady Edith at the first opportunity about the parcel, just in case the nanny neglected to mention it. "Sometimes, people do random acts of kindness during Christmas as a way of spreading love, joy, and cheer."

"Well, she didn't do me any favors and believe me, nobody except Marigold is cheerful in that nursery today. That's why you have to keep me safe down here."

Before he could question Sybbie further, a knock sounded on the door followed by the twisting of the doorknob. "Mr. Carson, why is the door stuck?" Mrs. Hughes had tried to push on the door but was met with some resistance thus halting her entry.

Charles took Sybbie's hand and moved her out of the way and opened the door for his wife. "I have a visitor with a very specific problem, and we were trying to get to the bottom of it when you knocked. But, now that you're here, maybe you can help us. I seem to be getting nowhere." He quickly filled Elsie in on what information he'd managed to gather so far.

"Mrs. Drewe sent a package? And you sent it straight to the nursery?" Elsie gasped, her mind already whirling with unpleasant scenarios and trouble brewing on the horizon. "Miss Sybbie, what was in the package that she sent to Miss Marigold?"

The child shuddered and rolled her eyes, making both Charles and Elsie stifle laughter at her dramatic response. "A horrible toy that needs to go away. Maybe we could donate it to the children in the village. I know somebody would love it, just not George or me. Marigold seems happy but she's the one playing with it … constantly!"

Elsie sighed in frustration and confusion. "Please, tell us what was inside the package. It's very important if you want our help."

"It's a loud noisemaker with sticks. I forget the name of it but it's like a piano but smaller and makes a metal sound when you hit the strips with a stick. It's about this long," she said, holding out her arms to a respectable length. "Oh, and it came with a little booklet that teaches you how to play it. I think nanny called it something that starts with a "z" but I couldn't really hear her over Marigold banging away." Sybbie rested her head on Mrs. Hughes's stomach and sighed. "She hasn't stopped alllllll afternoon. If I have to hear Jingle Bells one more time … and she's not even hitting all of the right notes. It's awful. That's why I need to hide. I promise you, I won't make a sound if you'll just let me sit here and read or draw or stare at a wall."

"Sounds like Miss Marigold was gifted a xylophone for Christmas," Charles said, suddenly understanding Sybbie's predicament and immediately sympathizing with the child and her need for a quiet refuge.

Elsie and Charles shared a compassionate look over the top of Sybbie's head. They'd both been in similar situations where all one wanted or craved was a bit of peace and solitude. Charles could identify more with the child's predicament than Elsie, and he immediately offered her refuge in his office for as long as he was downstairs.

"I love you, Mr. Carson. I really and truly do. You won't have any trouble out of me, and when you get ready to leave, I can go sit at the big table or in Mrs. Hughes's sitting room. But, um, I forgot to bring a book with me, and all my paper and colored pencils are upstairs. I left in a hurry … a very big hurry. I think I'll hear Jingle Bells in my sleep tonight," she grumbled.

Elsie laughed and hugged her tightly. "No need to be so dramatic. I'm sure, in a few days, the newness of the toy will wear off and she'll go back to playing with her dolls or other toys. And, if it's as loud and constant as you say, I'm sure nanny will limit the amount of time she can play it." She ruffled Sybbie's hair and smiled sweetly at the child. "Let's go see what Mrs. Patmore is doing and leave Mr. Carson to finish his wine decanting. And, if anyone comes looking for you, we'll tell them you came down for a snack … which we will give you so that won't be a fib."

"I knew you loved me," Sybbie gushed, looking from Mrs. Hughes to Mr. Carson. "And, if you ever need to hide from a loud xylophones and little girls that only know how to play a part of Jingle Bells, I'll help you. I don't know where we'd hide you, since you're so tall, but we'd find somewhere, and I'd bring you snacks, too."

"Let's hope I never need to hide," Charles said with a laugh. "I might miss something fun with you and Mrs. Hughes. You two seem to have the best adventures."

"Our best ones are with you, too, though. Too bad you have to work or we could all go to your cottage and they'd really have a hard time finding us. Wait, you don't have a xylophone at your house, do you?" Her eyes grew wide at the prospect of seeing another one so soon.

"No, just a gramophone which plays soft music, and a wireless radio which we listen to sometimes for a bit of music. No xylophones at our cottage." Elsie laughed a little as she saw the look of relief pass over Sybbie's face.

"I think your cottage might be my new favorite place. You have a pretty tree, lots of shortbread, and no noisy toys."

"Let's get you a snack and settled in my office. Then, we'll play the quiet game for a bit."

"Oh, that's a new game. How do we play it? Is it terribly fun? Sounds exciting."

Elsie winked at Charles and guided Sybbie from his office. "Xylophones can be loud but we're about to find out just how quiet you can really be for ten minutes," she teased as she closed the door behind her.

Charles shook his head and chuckled softly to himself. If he had to put money on it, he'd bet the bank on Sybbie not lasting a full five minutes before asking a question or making some sort of comment. At any rate, he would bet money that the offending toy wouldn't stay long in the nursery … not if nanny or Lady Edith had anything to say about it. In the meantime, he and Elsie would provide a sanctuary for the little girl who discovered a lifelong dislike for xylophones and repetitive songs.

**A/N:** We've all been there … that one loud toy, the one repetitive song, the one thing that drives us over the brink! Thankfully, Sybbie has her Carson and Mrs. Hughes … and I've been gifted some lovely reviews from you guys. You're amazing!


	25. Y is for Yorkshire Pudding

**Y –is for Yorkshire pudding**

Sybbie stepped off the last stair into the servant's hallway and looked around, first to Mr. Carson's door and then to Mrs. Hughes's pantry. Both doors were shut, which wasn't terribly unusual given the time of day, so she decided to see if Mrs. Hughes was busy. However, she didn't make it very far when she heard her favorite person's voice coming from the kitchen.

She tiptoed into the room and watched as Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore leaned over a book on the work surface. From the looks on their faces, it was a rather serious discussion, and Sybbie was unsure if she wanted to interrupt. But, her desire to spend some time with her friend was greater than her need to return to the nursery.

"So, you're going to need eggs, flour, milk and drippings. I truly believe you can do it, but we'll make a test batch now so you're not worrying over it on Christmas Day at the cottage. Mr. Carson is out, you said running errands, and this should only take us an hour, maybe two if we take our time."

"What are you baking?" Sybbie asked as she tentatively stepped into the kitchen, a little intimidated by the red headed cook who liked to shout a lot at her assistant.

Elsie smiled sweetly and put a finger to her lips. "It's a Christmas surprise for Mr. Carson. If you can keep a secret, you can help me bake a test batch with Mrs. Patmore's help. Do you think you can do that? He mustn't know what we've been up to today or his surprise will be ruined."

"Oh, I promise, Mrs. Hughes. Cross my heart, I won't tell him, even if he tickles me until I can't breathe."

The housekeeper paused, pretending to give it some thought just to tease the child. "What do you think, Mrs. Patmore? Do you think she can withstand the tickling Mr. Carson might give her to get her to talk?"

Beryl Patmore couldn't resist teasing her friend. "You'd know more about that tickle monster than I would, Mrs. Hughes. I'd say you're a better judge of his efforts than any of us in this kitchen."

"Och! Get away with you," she said, lightly scolding her friend. "Sybbie, come over here and we'll pull up a chair, and I'll explain what we're making. You can help me measure out the ingredients and pour them in while I mix them together."

"I think I can do that, and I want to help with his surprise. What do I need to do first?" After helping her at the large sink to wash her hands and tying a makeshift apron around her little body, Elsie explained that, together, they'd be attempting to make a Yorkshire pudding.

"I want to make it for my Christmas dinner with Mr. Carson at the cottage but I wanted Mrs. Patmore to help me. I've never made one by myself, you see, so I needed some help. And, she was kind enough to agree to help me with it."

"Is she going to yell if we don't do it correctly?" Sybbie's whisper wasn't as quiet as she'd intended and Mrs. Hughes had to suppress a smirk. "I want to spend time with you and learn but I don't like it when she yells. It's scary."

"Yes, it is a bit, but I promise you, she won't yell at you or me. And if she does … well, we'll just tell her that's not very nice and remind her that shouting isn't the best way to get a point across."

"Good idea. So, what do I do first?" She clapped her hands together and climbed up onto the chair as Elsie read aloud the directions once again, this time for Sybbie's benefit.

"You're in charge of getting four eggs and putting them off to the side. Be careful not to break them, at least not yet. We will crack them into a large bowl as soon as Mrs. Patmore gets one for us to use."

"You're sure you want to try this at home on Christmas, Mrs. Hughes? You know I could make a batch and send them with you so you're not fussed with it all. It's no trouble."

Sybbie shook her head before Elsie could reply. "Some surprises are best if they're made with love and flop than if we had someone else do it for us. Isn't that right, Mrs. Hughes? Better to try and give a gift with love than to never try at all. And I think Mr. Carson would love anything Mrs. Hughes gives him. He's very nice like that. He even loves my pictures that I draw and hangs them up in his office or the cottage."

"I know, and I'm quite jealous about that, Miss Sybbie. Your housekeeper and butler always get pretty pictures but the poor cook who bakes all those biscuits and cakes … she doesn't get anything at all other than a quick thank you."

Her eyes grew wide as she realized the truth behind the cook's words. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Patmore. I didn't think you'd want one of my paintings or pictures. I can do you one for Christmas, if you'd like. I think I have an idea for one you'll love, but it will take me a day or two to draw it and then color it. Will that be all right with you?"

She hugged the girl to her side and kissed the top of her head. "I'd wait a full year for a drawing from you so you take as long as you'd like. I'll not complain. So, right, let's get these eggs cracked and into this bowl or we'll be in the middle of it all when Mr. Carson returns from his errands."

"What if he sees us, Mrs. Hughes? He'll want to know what we're baking, and it won't be biscuits and it's not nice to fell a fib." The idea of being caught by Mr. Carson was causing a little bit of panic, and it made the cook and housekeeper smile just a little bit more.

"I'm sure we'll think of something, even if we have to start peeling carrots or chopping up onions …"

"Or nibbling on a biscuit! He'd never think we were up to something if we had a plate of shortbreads or ginger cookies on the table. That would be a great cover story. Don't you think, Mrs. Hughes?"

"It's a miracle you and Mr. Carson aren't as big as this house with all the sweets you two consume," she said with laughter laced into every word. "But, I cannot argue with your logic. We'll put a plate of ginger biscuits on the table but we won't touch them, just in case he happens to surprise us all by coming back early."

"You mean we'll have to sit and stare at them the whole time we're working on your baking?" Sybbie couldn't believe the torture that awaited her as she stared wide-eyed at the housekeeper and then up at the cook.

"I didn't say we wouldn't eat them, just not until after we've finished our baking. If we're good at it, we can even sample the Yorkshire pudding. After all, a good cook always tastes what she's baking or cooking so she'll know if it's delicious."

"You two keep prattling on and not working and we'll still be standing here at Easter," Mrs. Patmore quipped as she placed the flour on the table beside Elsie. "Now, read your directions carefully and ask for help if you need more directions. I'll be over here working on the preparations for dinner tonight or none of us in this household will get a hot meal."

As Elsie and Sybbie worked together to read the instructions from the recipe card and followed the directions down to the letter, Mrs. Patmore observed them with a careful eye. To anyone else in the outside world, it looked like a scene in a normal kitchen where a grandmother and granddaughter worked together to teach and learn a family recipe. She couldn't help but be happy for her friend at having been gifted the precious attentions of the sweet girl who so very clearly adored her and her husband. She was broken from her musings when Elsie announced that they were ready to put the mixture into the oven.

"Right, be very careful and don't slosh it around in the muffin tins. That'll make a mess for certain. Gently … gently … and close the door … don't slam it. Good. And now we wait on them to bake."

"But what do we do in the meantime? How long do they have to cook before we can eat one?"

"We don't have time to waste. We have to make the gravy to pour over them while they're cooking, and we have to keep an eye on them in the oven to make sure they don't overcook. We want them to be a pretty golden brown when we pull them from the oven."

"I didn't know it was so much work. I hope Mr. Carson appreciates all your hard work, Mrs. Hughes. I'm sure he will but if he doesn't, I'll be sure to tell him how hard we worked to learn this recipe and to test it," she said sternly.

"You just leave Mr. Carson to me. I have not a doubt in my mind that he'll be grateful for the attempt, even if they don't turn out as well as Mrs. Patmore's. Remember what I'm always telling you … it's the thought behind the deed that counts. I'll be sure to tell him about our practice batch, too, so he'll know you helped me perfect my cooking skills."

"I wish I could be at your house when you cook them for him at Christmas, but I suppose I'll have to stay here at my own house."

"You'll be busy playing with your new toys from Father Christmas. But, you want to know something?" Elsie leaned in and whispered to Sybbie causing Mrs. Patmore to strain to hear what was being said. "You'll get to sample my very first ones. It'll be our special secret, and one day, when you're old enough, you can teach your own children how to make them."

Sybbie reached out and grasped Mrs. Hughes's face in her tiny hands, drawing her face closer until they were almost nose to nose. "We can teach them together because by then, you'll know all there is to know about making them, and I want to learn from the best." She stretched up and rubbed her nose against Elsie's causing them both to giggle.

Neither of them noticed the cook wiping away a tear of happiness from her eyes or the sneaky butler who'd watched the whole scene from the kitchen window. He'd never spoil their surprise or the precious moment between his two favorite girls. Instead, he'd sneak into the house and make a louder entrance much later, when he was certain their little experiment in the kitchen was complete. And, regardless of how the Yorkshire pudding came out on Christmas Day, he would be certain to praise his wife for her efforts. Not for the first time, he thanked his lucky stars for giving him such a wonderful wife and sending Miss Sybbie into their lives to add that little bit of extra magic.

**A/N:** A little nod to Sybil and her learning from Mrs. Patmore how to bake a cake for her Mama … so now we have Elsie and Sybbie in the kitchen learning about Yorkshire puddings and making stronger family bonds.

One more chapter to go and then we will bid this trio goodbye … for now. Thank you for sticking with me through this holiday season and showing this story so much love. You've certainly brightened my holiday, and I hope I've added some happiness to yours, too! Much love, Ang.


	26. Z is for Zest

**Z - is for Zest**

His face was so close to hers that each exhale of her breath warmed his face, his nose touching hers as they continued on that incredible spiral climb towards pure bliss. His movements were slow but powerful, tender yet backed with a force that they both enjoyed. His hips rocked in perfect sync with hers, their practice having made these moments nearly perfect but always exciting, always something a little new, a little … more, as they grew more comfortable with each other and themselves.

Her eyes, while partially closed, were dark blue, and locked with his occasionally. They needed few words to communicate during heightened and intimate moments such as this one, though his eyes boring into hers spoke volumes to her heart. She could hear his voice clearly in her mind as if he were shouting from the rooftop of their cottage, and she knew he felt the same. Their shared unspoken thoughts mingled in the atmosphere surrounding them.

_**I love you so much. I need you. I am so blessed you're my wife. My handsome husband loves me. Please … yes … don't stop … again … right there … just like that … so close … almost … oh … god … mmmmmm … ahhhh … sweet sigh**_

She carded her fingers through his damp hair as she cradled his head to her breast. His lips continued to leave behind warm and tender kisses to her already cooling skin, something that added an extra layer to the amount of love and devotion they shared. The tenderness with which he treated her was something she would marvel over for the rest of her days, though she wasn't surprised by it at all. Her Charlie was a true romantic at heart and devoted entirely to her and their life together.

After several long moments of simply enjoying the closeness they shared, he shifted away from her slightly so he could draw her into his arms. Wrapping the blankets closely around her so she couldn't catch a chill, he pressed several kisses to the top of her head and gave her a little squeeze.

"Happy Christmas, love."

"Mmmm, indeed it is," she practically purred in his arms. "I'm afraid my legs won't quite support me at the moment so it's a good thing we don't have to be anywhere until lunchtime."

He chuckled and felt a bit of pride at hearing what he'd managed to do to his wife this particular morning. "Once I get a bit of energy back, I'll pop downstairs and put the kettle on and make some toast. You stay here and enjoy a bit of a lie in while you can."

She stretched up and kissed the underside of his jaw then peppered his face with more kisses until he captured her lips with his for a long and searing kiss. "That should hold you until you get back, handsome, though don't take too long. It will be cold and lonely in this bed without you."

He swatted her bottom playfully and kissed the tip of her nose. "Just close your eyes and try to relive the last hour, and I'll be back before you get to the really good bit," he teased, already slipping out of bed before she could reply.

She moaned softly as she watched him pull his robe tightly around his naked body. "Mmm, you make me shiver all over." Her voice was still a little husky, and her eyes were still a darker shade of blue, though with a twinkle in them. "Looking very fit and fine on Christmas morning, Mr. Carson!"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Must be all that exercise I get when my wife is home," he countered before stoking the fire in the grate and padding downstairs to complete his task of preparing a simple breakfast.

When he returned to the bedroom, breakfast tray heavily laden with fruit, cheese, toast, jam, and tea, he found Elsie still curled up beneath the blankets, though she'd decided it would be best to put on her warmer nightgown.

"I started the fire downstairs, too, while I waited on the toast and tea. I didn't want you chilled when we finally head downstairs to unwrap gifts."

"You're so thoughtful, Charlie, and I love you so much." She accepted the tray and secretly watched as her husband disrobed and pulled on his pajama bottoms and shirt. When he had slipped back into bed beside her, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. "This is a lovely way to start Christmas."

As he spread the jam on their slices of toasted bread, she fed him a bite of the sliced orange. "I'd say it's been quite the little adventure this season. I'm going to be a little sad to see the holiday end, though I know we still have Twelfth night to look forward to."

"You and a certainly little girl we both know and love have really enjoyed yourself this year. I can't say I've ever known either of you to show such excitement and enthusiasm for Christmas. You've added a bit of zest to the holiday that I've never seen before." She took a bit of toast and got a little of the jam on the corner of her mouth, which he promptly kissed away.

"Mmm, I do love strawberry jam in the winter," he said with a sly smile. "Or could it be the taste of my wife's lips? I should probably do a little more research … when we have more time, of course."

She shook her head and laughed. "Charlie, you are incorrigible!"

"Don't you mean … irresistible?" He kissed her cheek and then removed an envelope from beneath the tea towel on their breakfast tray. "I'd forgotten that Mr. Branson gave me this last night. He asked that we open it this morning, and I happened to remember it when I was downstairs." He handed her the envelope and gave a nod of encouragement for her to open it. "I've no idea what it says. He didn't give me any clues."

Elsie wiped her mouth and hands then slipped a well-manicured nail under the seal and removed the letter.

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Carson,_

_I cannot begin to thank you enough for everything you've done for Sybbie and me in the years that we've been at Downton. Knowing that my little girl is growing up surrounded by such loving and caring role models such as yourselves is more than any father could ask for his only child. _

_I know she can be a bit of a handful at times, but never doubt her love and devotion to both of you. She speaks of you constantly, and of the times she shares with you, both as a couple and individually. She loves you greatly and, as you both well know, she regards you as part of her family … a very integral part of her family, and mine as well. _

_Over these last few weeks, I've seen a light in her eyes that has reminded me so much of her mother. I know you've seen it, too, at times. The magic and merry-making you've shared with her has added such a zest and joy to the holiday season that I could never have imagined. While this may be one of, if not her very, last Christmas believing in the magic of Father Christmas, I've no doubts the memories you've made with her and the special efforts you've gone through to ensure her happiness will stay in her heart long after we are gone. For that, I am eternally grateful._

_So, it is with that very appreciative heart and with love from Miss Sybbie and myself, we want to offer you one last Christmas gift. I know, Mr. Carson, you will be most uncomfortable accepting the gift, but I'm hoping Mrs. Carson will convince you that it would make us all very happy, indeed, if you would accept. I know one little lady who would give you an earful if you refused, though I did not tell her of this special gift for fear that her enthusiasm might bubble over and she'd let something slip. _

_Please accept this gift from us to you … use it when you are ready. I've spoken to the family, and your vacation days will start once you tell us the dates. In the meantime, know that your seaside adventure awaits. All you need do is pick up the phone and make the necessary reservations. The telephone number and address of the inn at Scarborough are enclosed. Everything else has been paid for in advance._

_With love and gratitude,_

_Tom Branson & Miss Sybbie_

Charles and Elsie sat in stunned silence as Elsie finished reading the letter aloud then handed it over to Charles for his quick perusal. "I cannot believe it. An entire week at the seaside, paid for by Mr. Branson! And time away from the household whenever we choose to enjoy this. It's a Christmas miracle," Elsie exclaimed, still in a bit of a shock.

"I can't say I'm entirely comfortable accepting such a generous gift. It was one thing for the family to send us away on our honeymoon but this … it's …"

"It's a gift from the heart, Charlie. He appreciates the love and care we show to his child, and he realizes that we do so because it's a genuine feeling on our part and not out of any special loyalty or connection. That little girl worships you in ways she could never express. And, yes, she loves me, too, in much the same way. Her father is trying, in his own way, to give us a special gift in return." She rested her head on his shoulder and reached up to cup his cheek, feeling his early morning stubble against her palm. "Would you deny them the joy of giving us something special on Christmas because the rules of society might deem it improper?"

He tilted his head and kissed her softly. "I'd never do that simply because it's slightly different with Mr. Branson. I know he's part of the upstairs family, but at the same time, he will always be a part of the downstairs family. And, more importantly, he's given us something we would never have had, otherwise. Miss Sybbie is so very different from Lady Mary. When she was little, she was frequently in my office or seeking me out if I was making rounds, but Sybbie … she's unlike any child that's been in this household. Mr. Branson is raising her to understand her social standing but also that there's value in all people, not just the upstairs family and their friends."

"You do realize that she spends more time with us than she does with Donk and Granny, don't you? When she runs away, it's us she seeks out in order to make her world right again. I'm sure she loves them but it's a different sort of affection, much like your Lady Mary and her love for you versus her own father."

"I do realize that, and that is why I am willingly accepting this special gift. Obviously, he's spoken with the family about this and they've given their consent. I wouldn't wish to be rude to him or them by saying we can't accept, nor would I want to face the wrath of one Elsie Carson or Sybbie Branson. I couldn't bear that above all else," he teased. "I've no desire to go head to head with the Scottish dragon and her little whelp."

"Why am I sensing a "but" in there somewhere?"

"No, a simple caveat to the original plan. What if we split the week and took part of it during the summer when the family is away, and another part of it when it would be convenient for us to be away … spring or autumn, perhaps? Two trips instead of one, as it were, and we could even supplement the additional expenses with money from our joint account, if it were needed."

"Charlie, that's a lovely idea!" She turned his head and kissed him soundly on the lips. "So, we'll accept his offer this evening and propose the changes?"

"Yes, but there's one other rather small … and energetic … addition. What if, during one of the trips, we take Miss Sybbie with us? Only a few days, mind you, but a little holiday to the seaside for you and our little girl?"

Elsie could have been knocked over with a feather as her mind registered the words her husband had just uttered. She'd never, in a million years, expected him to suggest that they take a member of the family on a little holiday, much less one where they would be gone for more than a day.

"Well?" he asked nervously. "Is it a horrible idea or should we mention it to Mr. Branson tonight?"

"Charlie Carson, it is one of the most brilliant ideas you've ever had, and I love you so much for it. I think that little girl is going to know for certain that you are in cahoots with Father Christmas after we tell her this bit of news."

"Don't get excited yet, love. We still have to talk to her father, make arrangements, AND see if she's willing to go. For all we know, she could hate the idea of being stuck with us for two or three days."

Elsie rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Are we talking about the same little girl that's been in our offices almost every day during the last month and a half? The same little girl who begs you to read to her, wants me to teach her how to bake shortbread and knit, who built a Snow Carson with her cousins, spends countless hours doing very little just so she can be near one or both of us? Will she go? We have a better chance of both of you going off sweets for a day than we do of her saying no."

"All right, you've made your point," he chuckled. "I will admit that it will feel a bit strange, and there will be talk in the village. Mrs. Wigan will gobble that one up for sure."

"You leave Mrs. Wigan to me, and everyone else in the village will have to deal with the Dowager Countess if things get out of hand in regards to the gossip. She'll not stand for it." Elsie smiled and turned so that she was facing her husband, their breakfast long forgotten after the contents of the letter had been revealed. "Oh, Charlie! I still can't believe it. A holiday for us and possibly taking that little girl with us."

He laughed and gathered Elsie into his arms, holding her tightly and kissing her soundly. "I suppose I'd better start thinking of what I want to say to Mr. Branson this evening. And, assuming he agrees to the terms, we can sit down at the beginning of the new year and start planning our little adventure."

Elsie straddled his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, her nose brushing against his as she smiled. "If you plan this with half the zeal and zest that you did most of the other surprises for her this Christmas, it's going to be our best holiday ever … honeymoon excluded, of course," she said, rocking against him teasingly.

"Hmmm," he moaned. "Care to remind me just how much fun that little seaside trip was, or perhaps relive our activities from this morning."

"With zest, Mr. Carson … and a lot of pleasure," she purred before enthusiastically lavishing him with her love and adoration.

Later that evening, Mr. Branson accepted the terms with which the Carson's accepted his gift and decided that they would wait a bit before telling Sybbie the grand news. None of the adults wanted to face a barrage of questions on a daily basis for the next six months about the trip, but they were certain it would be exciting when she did learn the secret.

As they climbed into bed much later that evening, Charles and Elsie both sighed contentedly. It had been the best and most enjoyable Christmas season they could ever remember … a very merry Christmas, indeed.

**A/N:** Thank you all so very much for giving this story so much love and attention. I know it's been a challenge to catch up daily with so much going on in your real lives, but I've honestly appreciated and loved hearing from each and every one of you … guest and signed reviewers alike. You've given me so much happiness with your comments and constant encouragement … a true gift from the heart. Until next time … Chelsie On!


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